


Blood of Kings and Queens

by QueenAlien94



Series: Is It Scary [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenAlien94/pseuds/QueenAlien94





	1. Aftermath

Mario thought he was going to throw up. He was sure of it, in fact. He had been dreading this day since the moment he had signed Bayern’s contract and since the events that had followed soon afterwards, he was even more terrified. While his new teammates chatted, laughed and talked about strategy around him, it was all white noise to him. He pulled on his socks and boots as slowly as possible, willing time to slow down and hoping it would just stop so that he wouldn’t have to go out onto that pitch that afternoon. He had never found himself not wanting to face a match; football was his first love and to not want to participate in it was completely alien to him.

It was the first time that he had ever been put in Bayern’s starting XI and Mario was sure that it was Guardiola’s warped sense of humour that made him do that when Borussia Dortmund had travelled to the Allianz Arena for their match. He was going to have to face the wrath of the fiercely loyal BVB fans. He was going to have to face the scowl of Jurgen Klopp. He was going to have to face his certainly bitter former teammates.

As he stood in the tunnel, waiting to go out onto the pitch, Mario briefly wondered if Klopp had finally relented and allowed Marco back into the starting XI again. After Ann’s rather destructive expose in BILD, Klopp had declined to put Marco into the starting XI, something which the media were quick to latch onto and used the opportunity to accuse both Klopp and football as a whole as being ‘institutionally homophobic’. The same hadn’t been said for Mario because the news of him signing for Bayern had come after the revelations – apparently no one had picked up on the fact that Mario had signed the contract beforehand – and it wasn’t expected that Mario would be in Bayern’s starting XI anyway because of the team being packed with world class players far superior than Mario was yet. But Marco was the best player Dortmund had and everyone knew it.

However, Mario knew his old coach well enough to know that he wasn’t homophobic. Mario knew that Klopp didn’t care whether his players were gay, straight or sexually attracted to trees; all he cared about was the quality of the football they played. But he also wasn’t stupid. Klopp knew that the reaction of the fans upon seeing Marco on the pitch would be so negative that it would almost definitely be detrimental to the club to have him playing so soon after the ‘scandal’.

This game against Bayern would be the most difficult that Dortmund had faced since Ann’s revelations and Mario knew that it would be impossible for Klopp to find an excuse for not fielding Marco. Pep’s excuse for putting Mario up was because he was the one who knew Dortmund’s strategy – and how to destroy it – best.

Mario had recovered well over the summer break and had spent most of his time in Bayern’s incredible state-of-the-art gym with music blasting, trying to take his mind off Marco and their ill-fated, ill-advised and really rather absurd relationship – if it could even be called that. Mario was now in the best shape that he had ever been in his entire life; for the first time, he was confident in describing himself as ripped and he could bench press twice the weight he could before his car accident. Physically, he felt incredible.

Mentally, he felt completely fucked up.

Mario’s stomach turned at the sound of the crowd roaring while the Dortmund players came down the steps inside the tunnel to greet the visitors. Mats, Robert and Sven came running down first and pushed past Bastian, Philip, Thomas and Dante to take Mario completely by surprise and engulf him in a massive bear hug, bursting out with infectious laughter and ruffling Mario’s overgrown hair.

“Red is _so_ your colour, Götze!”

“We’ve missed you, you little prick!”

One by one, each of Mario’s ex BVB teammates embraced him, giving him good natured little jibes and he had blink hard to keep his tears at bay. He could never have expected a welcome with such affection. Mario grinned widely as if he had a hanger in his mouth and suddenly he felt his nerves melt away – if his ex-teammates could still find it in their hearts to be completely and utterly normal with him then what the hell was there to fear?

Well, that’s what he thought until Marco came down the steps and everyone fell into silence.

Kevin slung a protective arm around Mario’s shoulders as all the guys from both teams turned to face Marco. Their eyes locked and Marco immediately made a beeline for Mario.

He was blocked by Manuel – a man far taller and physically intimidating than Marco could ever hope to be.

“Leave him be. This is not about you. It’s about football. So back off.”

“You,” Marco directed at Manuel, “don’t have the right to tell me who I can and who I can’t speak with. And I want to speak to Mario.”

“He doesn’t want to speak to you, _Reus_ ,” Bastian snarled, stepping in beside Manuel, crossing his arms while Marco sighed, indignant and shook his head with soft disbelief.

“Stop it, man. It’s not fair.” Sven muttered and Mario bit his lip, feeling pride swell in his chest as the men from both Bayern and Dortmund defended him.

He could hardly believe it.

With a scowl and shake of his head, Marco pushed past all of them, deliberately avoiding looking in Mario’s direction and he sighed in relief. Kevin clapped him on the back and both of the teams stepped out onto the pitch, any signs of animosity completely gone as the men slapped on their game faces.

As the host team, Mario stood with the other Bayern Munich players on the pitch while the Dortmund men stood up and they shook hands one by one. Mario did it absentmindedly, smiling and nodding at his former teammates, still in a state of disbelief that they still regarded him as highly as they did when he was still with them. Marco stood up and Mario watched as he shook hands with Manuel, Thomas, Dante, Philip, Jerome, David…and then Marco came to Mario. Mario stood there, his eyes widened with complete disbelief as Marco nonchalantly ignored his outstretched hand and went straight to Bastian who just scoffed and dropped his hand.

Javi, Arjen and Franck all followed suit as the crowd quietened with bewilderment.

Mario’s knees started shaking as he tried to keep his composure in the astonishingly silent arena. He had never been in an arena that was so quiet – especially not when it was so packed. He dared his eyes to glance over to Marco and saw him standing defiantly before Mario’s new teammates with his face screwed up into a scowl while his hands grasped his hips. When no one made a move to do anything, Kevin awkwardly took a few steps over to Marco and Mario just about heard him mutter.

“You’re showing up the whole team. Suck it up and move the fuck on. We have a game to play.” Unsurprisingly, Marco made no effort to move and Mario felt the pressure rising in the air before he heard the Bayern fans start to chant.

_“REUS! OFF THE PITCH. REUS! OFF THE PITCH. REUS! OFF THE PITCH. REUS! OFF THE PITCH. REUS! OFF THE PITCH. REUS! OFF THE PITCH….”_

Mario closed his eyes and sighed with embarrassment, holding his head in his hands just for a second before Bastian nudged him softly in his side with his elbow.

“Mario, look!” Mario dropped his hands and looked over to Marco, expecting him to have done something stupid like punching Manu. But, Bastian was apparently indicating to something even more unbelievable.

The BVB fans were actually joining in the chants and booing Marco, urging him off the pitch.

“ _REUS! OFF THE PITCH. REUS! OFF THE PITCH. REUS! OFF THE PITCH.”_

Mats had now joined Kevin and though Mario couldn’t hear what he was saying, he was pretty sure that he was trying to persuade Marco to leave the pitch and drop out of the game. Mario didn’t blame them – there was no way that the game could go ahead with this kind of hostile atmosphere. But Marco just stood there, refusing to move while as Mats kept talking to him. Mario watched as Marco became increasingly irritated and his eyes widened as, frustrated, he forcefully pushed Mats away, yelling at him to ‘fuck off’ as he did so.

The boos and jeers from the fans only got louder and Mario felt increasingly powerless as he watched the argument explode before him. As the two men screamed at each other, Mario couldn’t hear what they were even saying, only picking up on the frequent profanities. They were in each other’s faces and had both flushed a bright shade of scarlet.

And then the entire stadium united in a simultaneous gasp as Marco leaned and head butted Mats.

The next few minutes passed in a blur for Mario. Before Kevin or Sven had a chance to rush at Marco and knock him to the ground, Klopp ran onto the pitch ahead of the arena security and, positively bursting with anger, grabbed Marco by the scruff of his shirt and dragged Marco off the pitch while the rest of the Dortmund men – and several of the Bayern players – rallied around Mats and the medics had to push through the group of men to actually get to him.

Mario, meanwhile, couldn’t bring himself to do anything so he sort of just stood there with Bastian’s arm around his shoulder, trembling with confused emotion as he watched Klopp disappear with Marco back into the tunnel, to the delight of the fans from both sides of the stadium.

“I…I have to go,” Mario began to panic. How could he play this game now? Was it even going to go ahead? Mats was taken away by the medics, apparently with a broken nose and the referee was walking around with confusion etched all over his face as he spoke, agitated, on his phone.

“Stay! The match is going ahead! Stay there!” Pep called over from the bench, motioning towards his players to stay exactly where they were. But Mario had other plans and he shrugged off Bastian’s arm that was still around his shoulders before heading earnestly over to the same tunnel that Marco had disappeared into just moments earlier. He knew that he was being stupid and possibly jeopardising the incredible opportunity Pep had given him to start in one of their most important matches of the season but he pushed that fear to the back of his mind, not really caring. As soon as he reached the end of the tunnel, he could quite clearly hear the familiar sound of Klopp yelling in the small office just to the left of him.

“Are you insane? Are you an idiot? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just shake Mario’s hand? Why did you have to act like a child? Did you do it to get a reaction? This is football. This is your job and in your job, you will act like a professional and not a hormonal teenager! How dare you humiliate your team like that and how _dare_ you assault your teammate! Are you under the impression that you are indispensable? Because make no mistake, you are _not_. This team did well without you and I will not hesitate to loan you out of the Bundesliga if I have to!” Mario’s heart pounded in his chest as he listened to Klopp lecture Marco. Not that he wasn’t being truthful – Klopp may be harsh, but he was never unfair and right then was no exception.

“It was _my_ issue, Mats didn’t have to get involved!”

“Do not try to blame Hummels. Unless you want to be suspended from the team right now, do not do it,” Even Mario could hear Klopp’s irritated sigh, “Get out of my sight and go to the changing rooms. You’re not playing today.” Seconds later, the door opened and Marco stepped out, doing a double take as he saw Mario standing before him. They locked eyes for just a second before Marco glanced away, a frown embedded on his face.

“What do you want?” And Mario didn’t really know the answer. What _did_ he want? What did he follow Marco and Klopp into that tunnel for? “Oh just get away from me, Mario.” Marco rolled his eyes and pushed past Mario when he didn’t offer a response to head back to the changing rooms on Klopp’s instruction.

“A-are you alright?” Mario called out, inwardly groaning at his lame question. Marco turned around and just stared at him for a moment, looking at him like he was stupid.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s it to you, anyway?” Marco shot back and, in that instant, he made Mario feel about two inches tall. He went cold and his mouth went dry while his breathing went shallow and he felt the horribly familiar tug on his chest.

“I miss you.” Mario whispered and he felt his heart start to beat hard as Marco’s face softened towards him and he was convinced he could see a ghost of a smile upon his lips.

“You look good in red.” Marco murmured and turned on his heel towards the changing rooms, leaving Mario standing at the foot of the tunnel with a fool’s smile upon his lips.


	2. Sunrise

Marco stepped out onto the balcony and breathed deeply, taking a moment to revel in the crisp morning air. This was when he loved Dortmund the most; when he wasn’t in his cold, empty shell of a mansion in the secluded gated community and instead was in his penthouse close to the stadium. He bought it that summer after he found that he couldn’t bear to be alone in his absurdly oversized house though he couldn’t bring himself to sell it – it made a statement that a penthouse simply could not. As he leaned against the railing and stared out over the city, he vaguely registered his arm stinging from earlier in the day when he added to his now rather extensive tattoo but he was soon distracted by a shout coming from the television in his bedroom just behind the balcony door.

The sun began rising behind the skyline and it engulfed the city in a rich glow. Marco hadn’t had a moment of sleep that night but that wasn’t really anything unusual given the current circumstances. Ever since the match in the Allianz Arena, Marco had found he was unable to sleep in the nights, save for the odd hour here and there. The match the weekend earlier had gone ahead without him or Mats and he was perfectly aware that he wasn't being included in the team for the match the next day against Mönchengladbach. Which was probably a good thing – the guys at ‘Gladbach had been extremely bitter about him leaving just over a year earlier and his current teammates were disgusted with him for what he did to Mats.

Marco had gotten into the habit of leaving his bedroom television on from the moment he got home in the evening until he left the next morning, acting as a source of company for him at a time when no one was interested in providing him with actual human company. He wasn’t deluded, however; he was perfectly aware that he had brought all of this on himself. Since their visit to the Allianz Arena, men who he had previously counted amongst his closest friends had gone out of their way to voice their disdain for him. On good days at training, they simply ignored him and on bad days, there had been physical fights. It was becoming apparent that Marco could not remain in BVB and he knew that Klopp was looking to loan him out to either Paris Saint-Germaine or Manchester City.

He was hoping for the former, sky blue was so not his colour.

As Marco thought about leaving Dortmund, a club he thought of as home despite only having been there for one season during his adult career, he started getting hot and sweaty despite the chill of the early morning air. He peeled off his shirt and hissed contently as the cool air washed over his chest soothingly. It was times like this that Marco wished he wasn’t an athlete. He could enjoy some double chocolate fudge cake or a cigarette or even a joint.

Marco crossed his arms and thought back to when he was seventeen and tried his first – and only – spliff. He was in Ahlen and celebrating an apparently important game against some obscure team that now he couldn’t even remember. Somehow they had been let in to a nightclub in the nearest city, Hamm, and he along with the rest of his teammates had been drinking. Heavily. It was the first time that Marco had been drunk – not just a bit tipsy and silly but actually, properly drunk and he loved it. The whole team had been puffing on cigarettes since the night began – Marco had been smoking occasionally for the past year since he joined the team and had grown to rather enjoy it – but now a couple of them were rolling joints and passing them around. Marco didn’t hesitate in accepting and took a drag. Then another. And then another until someone clipped him on the back of his head for being greedy.

Marco shuddered as he recalled how his head spun. His mind had been properly relaxed, at ease and stress free for the first time in years; he had no worries about training or schedule or homework in that moment because it just didn’t matter. He had just had another beer as one of his teammates dragged him outside to get some fresh air. Marco had followed obediently, craving the fresh air and they sat in the beer garden for a short while just laughing and giggling about nothing that Marco could remember now. The boy – whose name also now eluded Marco – had shifted closer to him as they talked and laughed together and Marco recalled hardly noticing as the laughter faded away and the boy put a hand on his cheek. He had pulled Marco close to him and pressed their lips together. He had gripped Marco’s back and kissed him deeply.

Marco grimaced as he remembered how he had returned the kiss in earnest and how their lips opened together. Their tongues had danced together and even now, Marco could still remember how his erection had strained almost painfully against the denim of his jeans as that old teammate’s lips had caressed his own so passionately. He had kissed girls before, of course, and had had occasional sex with girls since losing his virginity at fifteen but that kiss had been different and not just because it was with a guy or because he had been smoking pot for the first time. Marco cringed, thinking about how that boy had held him so firmly and gripped his thigh, his hand inching up before he had regained his senses and pushed the boy away, running back inside the bar.

He had always told himself that that night didn’t really matter and had tried to convince himself that it was the pot, it was the drink, it was the hyped up atmosphere…It was pointless and Marco had always known that the reality of it all was that he had enjoyed that kiss. It was better than any kiss he’d shared with a girl and when he thought about it, he hadn’t had a kiss quite like it until he kissed Mario.

Marco swallowed hard and got up, briefly wandering into his bedroom to grab a bottle and a glass. He retreated back onto the balcony and sighed as he poured himself a glass of dark rum. While he drank, he wondered if this was it, if his football career was over just because of one ridiculous, short lived and incredibly emotionally charged fling.

He bit his lip, musing over the notion of describing what happened between him and Mario as a ‘fling’. In Marco’s mind, flings connoted the idea of meaningless, emotionless, empty sex – a means to an end with both parties essentially using the other to get off and Marco was painfully aware that it meant so much more to Mario. He knew that Mario had given him his heart and he knew that-

Marco cut off his thoughts by pouring and downing another glass of rum.

He was really sick of thinking about Mario. He was all anyone ever talked about with him; he couldn’t count the amount of times people had asked him how he and Mario got together or what attracted him to Mario or whether he loved Mario…all anyone wanted to talk about was Mario, even when they weren’t talking about their relationship. And it was always ‘poor Mario’ this and ‘poor Mario’ that and the only thing Marco really regretted was how he conducted himself at their match against each other because it just cemented the idea that he was an awful person and Mario was some kind of saint in the minds of everyone out there – his teammates, the fans and everyone else.

For the sixth or seventh time that night, Marco picked up his phone and mused over the idea of phoning Mario. He still hadn’t got over not hearing Mario’s voice every day. He still hadn’t got used to not seeing Mario’s bright eyes and soft smile when he woke up in the morning. Maybe that’s why he didn’t wake up in the mornings anymore. He had thought that after their small interaction after Klopp had yelled at him, they might resume some kind of contact but apparently Mario had deemed there to have been too much water under the bridge and he hadn’t messaged Marco or anything.

Marco sighed and decided to bite the bullet, putting his phone to his ear as he initiated a phone call.

_“Hello?”_

“Mario…it’s Marco.” Marco rolled his eyes at his own lameness.

 _“Oh…hi.”_ Mario’s voice audibly softened as Marco announced himself.

“You sound surprised?”

 _“I, uh…deleted your number. I just thought it was for the best.”_ There was a moment’s silence between the pair, _“It’s good to hear your voice, are you ok?”_ Marco smiled, reassured and relieved by Mario’s apparent concern.

“I’m not bad, I suppose. How are you?”

_“I’m fine, just tired.”_

“Oh, shall I let you get back to sleep? Sorry, I’m not really acknowledging time at the moment.”

 _“No! No, it’s nice to hear from you. I just…why did you call?”_ Marco didn’t answer straightaway.

“I was thinking about you.” Marco shrugged.

 _“You were thinking about me?”_ Mario murmured and Marco smiled to himself, hearing the emotion in Mario’s voice when he spoke.

“I think about you a lot.”

 _“Why were you thinking about me this time?”_ The hope in Mario’s voice was so clear.

“I was watching the sunrise.”

_“What?”_

“You’re my sunshine.” There was a short pause and Marco poured himself another drink.

_“Really?”_

“What?”

_“You think of me like that? Like…light?”_

“Well, no, I didn’t really mean it in that sense.”

_“It’s not because I wear fake tan sometimes is it? Because I just think it gives me a healthy glow and-”_

“No!” Marco said, chuckling, “It’s because you’re part of the reason why my life has purpose,” Marco’s voice softened into a whisper and he could have sworn he heard Mario whimper quietly.

_“Marco…”_

“I mean it, Mario. You mean a hell of a lot to me. I can’t be gay, I don’t want to be gay and I’m not going to be gay but I want you back in my life even if it’s just as friends.”

 _“Being gay isn’t a choice.”_ Mario croaked.

“I can’t be a gay footballer. I’ve said it before to you, I can’t be a gay footballer.”

 _“But what about us?”_ Marco didn’t reply, he just poured himself and knocked back another glass of rum, _“Marco? Marco, what about us though? I don’t want to be with anyone else, do you? Do you want to be with a woman instead of me?”_ Marco closed his eyes and frowned, his confusion starting to make his head hurt, _“Marco?!”_

“I love football more than I love you!”

_“You really do love me?”_

Marco hung up.


	3. Absurdly Large Penis

“He said he loves me though!”

“Well…he didn’t _exactly_ say that, did he?”

Mario was sitting with David in a small café on the outskirts of Munich. When Mario had suggested going out for an hour or two after training that day with the only guy on the team he had gotten somewhat close to, he had been thinking more about going to a bar and having a few beers but apparently David didn’t drink so instead they decided to grab some cake. Which wasn’t as good as beer but Mario had to admit, it was damn good cake.

“He did!”

“You told me that he said ‘I love football more than I love you’. That’s hardly a declaration.” David pointed out as he picked at his slice while Mario shoved half of his slice straight into his face.

“It _implies_ it though, doesn’t it?” Mario was smiling so widely that David felt guilty about denting the best mood he had seen him in since he had joined Bayern.

“I don’t think so. I mean, if I said ‘I love my parents more than I love you’ then that’s not definitively me saying that I love you, is it? That’s certainly me saying that I love my parents but it leaves the question of whether I love _you_ rather ambiguous.” Mario peered at David with an eyebrow raised and a broad smile still upon his face.

“Are you trying to tell me that you love me, Alaba?”

“Mario,” David said softly, looking Mario in the eye, his face falling as David’s words sank in.

“He’s told me he loves me before. Several times,” Mario pointed out, “Look, you don’t know what Marco’s like!” David raised an eyebrow.

“Mario, he head butted his own teammate in the middle of a packed stadium over a silly argument about handshakes!” David said, exasperated.

“You don’t know what he’s like when we’re alone together!” Mario scowled, folding his arms defensively and avoiding David’s eyes.

“What, so he’s only an arrogant, violent prick in front of fifty thousand people and he’s a sweet romantic in private? Is that really what you’re trying to tell me?” Mario didn’t offer a response, “Ok, I don’t know what went on between you and Marco. All I know is what Ann said in that interview. And if even a fraction of what she said was true then he is a jackass!” Mario and David sat together in silence for a few moments. Mario didn’t really know what to say. He knew that David was right. Of course he was right, he was a very clever guy. He was the only person on the team who had actually finished high school. But he didn’t know how this felt.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Mario, it doesn’t-”

“Just answer the question,” Mario interrupted, “Have you?”

“No,” David relented, leaning back, “I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not qualified to say if someone’s a jackass. And Marco is a jackass.”

“The only reason he acts like that is because he’s confused about his sexuality. He was raised in a very traditional family and he works in an extremely homophobic profession so it’s hardly surprising he’s lashing out.” David just raised an eyebrow.

“I work in an extremely racist profession and you don’t see me head butting anyone.”

Mario and David talked for a bit longer off the topic of Marco; it was quite clear that they weren’t going to come to any consensus on that particular issue. As they eventually relaxed into some easy conversation, Mario became grateful both for his friendship and his company. Since he joined Bayern, he got on pretty well with all the guys on the team but David was the only one who he spoke with outside of training and group get-togethers. He knew the rest of the guys had his back – especially after the previous weekend – but he also knew they weren’t _friends_ in that intimate sense that he had been with most of the guys back in Dortmund. Everyone here was just a bit more distant; perhaps it was because a lot more of the guys were older or had families or both, Mario wasn’t sure.

David’s phone vibrated.

“Hey, the guys are going to Toni’s place, wanna come?” Mario swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“They didn’t invite me though, they invited you.”

“No,” David thrust his phone in Mario’s face.

_From: Basti_

_Hey you little prick, we’re going to Toni’s for drink and pool and shit. I don’t have Mario’s number but bring him too yeahhhhhh? Be there bitches!_

Mario felt his face flush at being invited to Toni’s house; he hadn’t been to one of their houses before and he suddenly felt like a bashful seven year old being invited to a sleepover by one of the cool kids.

“So, you coming?”

“Yeah, I’m up for it.”

David drove them across the city to the other side of Munich to Toni’s house. Well, house would be a significant understatement. Mario had thought his house in Dortmund had been a tad excessive but this was ridiculous. There was a twenty foot tall fountain in the front garden, for crying out loud.

“Don’t be fooled,” David muttered, “They had another two floors built underneath too. Because apparently four floors weren’t enough,” David pulled up beside numerous beasts of cars and Mario smirked as he looked at them, finding a great reason to go car shopping. They both jumped out of the car and Mario followed David, somewhat apprehensively, up the driveway and Mario shuffled awkwardly as David knocked on the front door. Dante threw open the door and engulfed David in a hug.

“Aw come here you bastard!” Mario anticipated a hug but Dante had other ideas. He wrapped his arms around Mario’s waist and hauled him up onto his shoulders before running through the house, past a bewildered Philip and Thiago and outside to the pool area where Toni, Jerome, Bastian and Manuel were chilling with numerous bottles of beer. Mario was so busy laughing that he didn’t even begin to think about why Dante had carried him out there. Or why the guys around the pool were cheering.

In fact, nothing really registered in his mind until Dante had thrown him into the pool and the rest of the guys had bombed into the pool next to him.

Spluttering with laughter, Mario resurfaced and immediately grabbed Dante’s head, pushing him firmly under the water as the rest of them were laughing so hard it was a wonder they were actually able to keep afloat in the rather deep water.

“You dicks! These jeans are _Prada_!” With his clothes weighing him down, Mario hauled himself out of the pool and sat on the edge, trying to recover.

“Mario, I have a spare pair if you don’t want to ruin your precious Gucci pants?” Toni laughed good naturedly, “Might be a bit pointless though, we all just usually go naked, especially after a few beers.”

It was only then that Mario realised that the guys out by the pool were all in their pants, except for Jerome. Who was very much completely naked. And who had an absurdly large penis.

And with that realisation, Mario suddenly found his cheeks burning red and breathing started to be difficult. His head was spinning and he didn’t know what to do with himself. His heart was racing and sweat was dripping down his back.

“Mario? Mario, are you alright, man?” David offered Mario his hand and he let himself be pulled up, albeit on shaky legs. With his knees wobbling, David led Mario back into the lounge where Philip and Thiago still were, watching television and drinking a beer. Upon seeing Mario’s green tinged skin, Philip stood and put a hand on Mario’s back, turning to David.

“Is he alright?” David sat Mario down and pushed his head firmly between his thighs. Mario screwed his eyes shut and started breathing deeply.

“I have no idea. Dante threw him in the pool, we were all laughing and he was completely fine and then all of a sudden he looked like he was going to pass out.”

“Get him some water, will you?” Thiago asked and David rushed out to the kitchen.

“Mario? What’s wrong?” Philip sat beside Mario and put a hand on his back.

“Hey, what’s going on?” With a beer in his hand, Toni wandered into the room.

“We think Mario’s going to pass out,” Thiago muttered in response which earned his a smack on the back of his head from David.

“Shut up,” David scolded, handing Mario a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully, thought his stomach and head was still spinning. Toni sat on the other side of Mario to Philip.

“Thiago, can you bring out those vodka shots?” Thiago took Toni’s hint and left the room, leaving just Mario, David, Philip and Toni.

“Was it because Jerome took his pants off?” Toni asked and Mario peered up at him, “I thought you would be the last one here to be freaked out by another man’s penis,” Toni quipped and though he knew it was meant with good humour, Mario’s stomach still clenched at his words.

“I wasn’t freaked out by it. I just…found myself looking and thought…” Mario trailed off and took another sip of water.

“You thought that I would freak out if I saw you looking at my dick?” Jerome came in and leaned against the wall, now wearing a pair of jeans, “Jesus, Mario, I haven’t been living in a cave, I do know about what happened with you and Marco and if I had a problem with it, do you really think I’d have taken off my pants around you?”

“Jay, cool it, ok? The kid is clearly freaked,” Philip said, sternly and Jerome just smirked and shook his head.

“No! I’m getting sick of this guy!”

“Jerome, shut it,” David muttered.

“Yeah, give him a break,” Toni added.

“Forget it. Forget it! Does he think he’s something special because he’s gay? Fuck that. _Fuck that!_ ”

“Are you serious? Do you even know what it feels like to feel like this around your own teammates? Do you know what it’s like to avoid even raising your damn head when you’re in the changing rooms because you know that everyone’s going to think you’re checking them out?” Mario cried out with aching frustration that no one understood how he was feeling.

“If you got your head out of your ass for one second, you’d realise that no one’s thinking that! And you know why no one’s thinking that? Because we’re not so fucking egotistical as to think that just because you like men, you want to fuck all of us. And even if you do, we _don’t care_! Why do you have it in your head that everyone around you is homophobic? We aren’t. The only thing we have a phobia of is your fucking drama!”

“Jerome! Enough!” Philip stood up, squaring up to Jerome and though he was no match for him physically by any stretch of the imagination, his authority as captain of the team was not to be underestimated and Jerome quietened, leaning back against the wall. Philip turned towards Mario, “Listen, for as long as I am captain of this team, you won’t get any hassle from any of us but I can’t control the actions of other teams or the fans.”

“Will you stop it! Stop enabling this,” Jerome turned to Mario, “Some people will never accept you. When we play Moscow in the Champions League, you won’t be able to go out in the city – you know that right? You’re going to be holed up in the hotel with me, David and Dante. Oh, and don’t be surprised when you go to that hotel in Moscow and they put you in the worst room and conveniently forget to clean your room or send you your wakeup call. You think you have it bad? At least you can hide the fact that you’re gay; we can’t hide that we’re not white!” Jerome cried out, “And I’m not saying that anyone should have to hide who or what they are but at least you have that choice! You’ll get my fucking sympathy when you have bananas thrown at you on the pitch or when you can’t even hear your teammates speak to you because the sound of monkey chants are too fucking loud. So _fuck you_ if you think you’re anything special, _Götze._ Fuck you!” And with that outburst, Jerome stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut as he retreated back to the pool area outside.

Mario started shaking, silently praying to the Gods that he wouldn’t suddenly burst out crying. Toni squeezed his shoulder, reassuringly.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to be what you are,” David offered, crouching in front of Mario, “Who cares what anyone else thinks?”

“I do care though. I don’t want homophobic shit to be a shadow over my career. I don’t want to be ‘that gay footballer’. I don’t want to be remembered for being gay.” The rest of the men were all quiet for a moment, unable to deny what he was saying was true.

“Why can’t you just not come out?” Everyone turned towards Toni as he broke the silence.

“What?” Mario stared at him and frowned, confused.

“Why don’t you just not come out?” Toni shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“How? Ann did that fucking interview,” David pointed out.

“So? Neither Mario nor Marco have publicly said it was true. The only parties who know that they were in a relationship are Bayern and Dortmund. No one else really knows if it’s true or not and let’s be honest, not many people in this country seriously believe most of the shit BILD comes out with. So if Mario comes out and says that Ann was talking shit then that’s it – no one will take it seriously and it will all be forgotten before our game next weekend.”

“But what about what happened at the game?” Philip pointed out.

“Mario could just say that Ann made up all that shit because she was bitter about their breakup and wasn’t thinking straight after Carolin’s death and that Marco thought that Mario had told Ann that they were together and then say that they have now straightened everything out and are now friends again.” Mario, David and Philip all stared at Toni, slack jawed while he grinned, rather happy with himself.

“Do you think that could work?” Mario asked, turning to Philip.

“If you don’t want to be known as that gay footballer, I think it’s the best plan you’ve got.”

All of them – especially Mario – knew that it wasn’t an ideal plan but it wasn’t just the best plan, it was the only viable plan Mario had if he didn’t want to carry the stigma throughout his whole career. And he didn’t, he couldn’t. He couldn’t have his potential achievements overshadowed by something that shouldn’t matter.

“Right, I think we should join the guys,” Philip stood up, “Coming?” The three other men chorused their agreement and Toni followed Philip out to the pool while David hung back with Mario.

“Jerome was telling the truth, wasn’t he?” Mario asked, uncertain while David sighed.

“Yeah, he was. Germany is a good place to be a footballer, most people aren’t prejudiced cunts. But some people are and…yeah,” He shrugged, “And the Champions’ League can be difficult sometimes, especially in places like Russia and Ukraine for me, Jerome and Dante and if you can find a way not to have to deal with that then I’d encourage you to go for it,” David put a hand on Mario’s back, “It’s fucking wrong that you have to hide who you are but…hey, you got to do what you got to do to survive, right?” Mario nodded, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair, shakily.

“Yeah. Right.”


	4. The Interview

**_“MARIO GÖTZE LEFT ME FOR MARCO REUS”_ **

**_ANN-KATHRIN VIDA ON THE GAY SCANDAL THAT BROKE UP FOOTBALL’S GOLDEN COUPLE_ **

_Four months ago, the country was shocked by the split of football’s golden couple, Mario Götze and Ann-Kathrin Vida. Both parties have been completely silent on the reasons behind the sudden break up. Until now. In this exclusive interview, Ann-Kathrin breaks her silence and shares football’s most incredible secret._

**BILD:**                                       Why exactly did your relationship with Mario Götze end?

 **Ann-Kathrin Vida:**            I was under the impression everything was fine so when I came home from a shoot one day and Mario sat me down and told me that the relationship was over, I was shocked.

 **BILD:** He must have given you a reason for the relationship coming to an end?

 **AK:**                                          He sat me down and he confessed to me that he had kissed another man. He said that he really liked this other man and that even if this other man did not want a relationship with him, he no longer wanted a relationship with me or any other woman.

 **BILD:**                                       Did he tell you who this other man was?

 **AK:**                                          Not at that time. I found out a few months later.

 **BILD:**                                       Who was this man?

 **AK:**                                          Marco Reus.

 **BILD:**                                       To clarify, this is Marco Reus, the midfielder who plays for Borussia Dortmund?

 **AK:**                                          Yes, the very same.

 **BILD:**                                       Are you alleging that Mario Götze and Marco Reus are in a homosexual romantic relationship?

 **AK:**                                          I am not alleging it. I’m saying that it is happening. They are in a relationship and are sleeping together but that might not last much longer.

 **BILD:**                                       Why is that?

 **AK:**                                          Not long after Mario ended our relationship, my dear sweet friend, Carolin Böhs – Marco’s girlfriend – died in a tragic accident and I started getting close to Marco because we were both so heartbroken. Well, at least I thought he was anyway. He took me out for coffee, for dinner and eventually we began a relationship. Mario found out about this a few weeks ago and he didn’t react very well.

 **BILD:**                                       What happened?

 **AK:**                                          He smashed up my car with a baseball bat. I understood his anger but really, his anger was misdirected – I had no idea that he was with Marco. As far as I was concerned, Marco was my boyfriend and I hadn’t done anything wrong. I feel bad for Mario but he shouldn’t have acted that way. It wasn’t my fault.

 **BILD:**                                       How do you feel towards Mario and Marco now?

 **AK:**                                          I think that Marco’s behaviour was disgusting. He played both me and Mario for fools just after his girlfriend had died. I believe that he took advantage of my vulnerability after my break up with Mario and death of my beautiful best friend. I feel bad for Mario, he’s clearly really struggling with his sexuality and took it out on me and my car when he found out about me and Marco.

 **BILD:**                                       Do you love either of them?

 **AK:**                                          I will admit that I still love Mario very much. Maybe that makes me a fool but I cannot control my heart. We shared so much until Marco came along and ruined everything.

 **BILD:**                                       Would you take Mario back?

 **AK:**                                          I would but he loves Marco. I will have to forever live with the fact that I am in love with a gay man and it breaks my heart.

**_BILD has contacted representatives for Mario Götze and Marco Reus but both have declined to comment._ **

 

**_“I AM NOT IN A GAY RELATIONSHIP WITH MARCO REUS”_ **

**_Mario Götze finally responds to THOSE homosexual accusations!_ **

_After their shocking split, Ann-Kathrin Vida made sensational claims in an interview with BILD that Mario Götze was in a homosexual relationship with his former teammate, Marco Reus. Both men have repeatedly refused to comment on the accusations but today, Mario Götze has released a statement finally addressing Miss Vida’s sensational claims._

In November 2012, I decided to end my relationship with Ann-Kathrin Brömmel. I ended the relationship simply because I felt that we were no longer compatible. It was a difficult decision but one that I had to make, it would have been unfair to Miss Brömmel to continue the relationship.

I became very close friends with Marco Reus when he transferred to Borussia Dortmund in the summer of 2012 and we have remained close friends since I transferred to Bayern Munich. Our relationship is strictly platonic and any suggestion to the contrary is malicious and completely untrue.

Any accusation that I may have destroyed property belonging to Miss Brömmel is also false and defamatory.

It would be improper for me to comment on the incident regarding Marco Reus and Mats Hummels at the Allianz Arena since I was not a party to the altercation.

-          Mario Götze.


	5. Spain

It was the first international break of the season and Germany was playing a friendly against Spain, the current World Champions. It was going to be a tough game and Joachim Löw wanted all of his best players out on the pitch and so, to him, fielding Lahm, Schweinsteiger, Klose, Neuer and Müller was a no-brainer. The only thing troubling him was which of the extremely talented but less experienced men to bring in to the team.

He soon scribbled down Kroos and Boateng before musing for a moment and deciding on Hummels. He now had three spots left in the starting XI.

The most obvious choice, of course, was Reus. But given the recent unfortunate events, Joachim pondered the consequences of putting him in the team and tried to decide to what extent the success of the team was linked to the harmony within the team. He was sure that if he put Reus in the team, he would have to take out Hummels. Which wasn’t really fair. Which meant that he had to decide whether fairness was as important as a win over Spain.

Joachim crossed out Hummels and replaced it with Reus.

And then there was the question of Götze. Joachim chewed at the end of his pencil. If he put Götze in the team, then he had to take out Reus. Which meant he could put Hummels back in. Was Reus really good enough for him to justify not fielding both Hummels and Götze? Hummels had natural leadership and Götze was one of the most promising young rising stars Germany had. Joachim wanted to illustrate his skills and show him off a bit – all ready for the World Cup next year. The boy had great natural charisma and with that and his remarkable talent, Joachim could see him being the poster boy of the whole tournament.

Joachim crossed out Reus and wrote down Hummels and Götze.

But then, Reus was such an incredible talent on the same level as Müller and his partnership with Götze on the pitch was simply second to none. They were a classic duo, undeniably in tune with each other. Their performance together in Dortmund the previous season was incredible and together, they were unstoppable.

Joachim crossed out Hummels and wrote Götze alongside Reus.

However, Joachim found himself unable to shake the notion of Hummels. His leadership was on a level not even reachable by most of the other men. But then, did the team really need more leadership? Lahm, Schweinsteiger and Klose provided all the leadership needed.

No, screw Hummels. It wasn’t fair but Götze and Reus were more valuable to the team’s success.

But then he still had two spaces left.

With gritted teeth, Joachim wrote Hummels back into the team.

“Fuck!” Joachim had forgotten all about Özil, Schürrle and Podolski. Which meant that he had to rethink the entire team.

“Fucking drama Queens. Messing all my shit up.”

When Joachim had eventually figured out who he would be fielding in his starting XI against Spain, he immediately emailed the line up to all the men involved, including the six substitutes he had also picked, before he changed his mind again.

Meanwhile, Mario checked his email the second he woke up. He desperately wanted to be in that starting eleven. He wanted to start showing off his skills, all ready for the World Cup the following year and he really wanted to be a big part of the team that went to Brazil the following year. With still email from Joachim in his inbox as of yet, Mario sighed and rolled out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans that were lying on his bedroom floor.

Over the past three weeks, the Bayern men had made it a tradition to have a party at Toni’s house every Tuesday because that was the night that Toni’s partner, Jessica, took their son to her mother’s in Freiburg. The night before had been no exception except everyone had drank way more than they really should have and had crashed at Toni’s place.

Mario stepped over Bastian, who had passed out on the floor of the spare room Mario had also passed out in; though Mario had had the good sense to pass out on the silken sheets of the luxurious King size bed. While Bastian had apparently thought that the wooden floor was good enough to be face planted on. With his tongue hanging out and drool pooled on the floor beside him. Standard practice, of course.

It was only while Mario was wandering down the hallway towards the stairs that he felt a pounding headache absolutely consume him. With his eyes screwed up in pain, he stumbled down the stairs, hoping that Toni was awake because he was in dire need of painkillers.  He floated towards the main lounge but paused when he heard voices.

 _“Don’t let Mario see that.”_ Mario recognised the voice as being Thiago’s.

 _“Why? He’ll find out soon enough.”_ Philipp replied and even through the door, Mario could hear the slight note of worry in his voice. Mario’s heart sank as he realised they must be talking about the team Joachim was fielding against Spain.

_“Yeah but he’s probably hungover so at least wait until he’s not feeling like he’s dying.”_

_“It’s going to crush him.”_ Philipp sighed and Mario decided to bite the bullet and open the door.

“What exactly is going to crush- Oh. Fuck.” As Mario stood in the doorway, any concern of what they were saying about him had absolutely vanished from his mind as he saw Thiago and Philipp curled up on the sofa together, at least topless, with a blanket circled around the both of them. Mario stared at them, completely slack jawed as Thiago very almost fell to the floor as he sprung up, trying to cover his modesty as he jumped away from Philipp.

“This is _not_ what it looks like!” Philipp offered, more out of desperation than actual expectation that it could possibly be believed. Thiago snatched the blanket away and wrapped it around his waist while Philipp stood, still in his boxers and hastily pulled on a pair of jeans.

“Right, so you two were just casually cuddling on the sofa with you,” Mario pointed at Philipp, “in just a pair of pants and you,” he pointed at Thiago, “completely naked? And this just conveniently happened to occur on the night that you weren’t at home with your wife and son?”

“Hey, don’t fucking stand there and judge me! You’re not the only one who happens to enjoy both genders, alright?” Philipp muttered while Thiago sat at the opposite end of the sofa, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah, but I don’t enjoy them at the same time!” Mario ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. He really didn’t need to be dealing with this nonsense as well as everything else, “Look, I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about. Your shit is your shit and I’m not going to judge or interfere. I just… _really_ wasn’t expecting that,” With his heart threatening to burst out of his chest with how heavily it was beating, Mario took a step back, “I’m…uh…gonna go.” Mario practically ran out of the room and out of the house to his car, any registration of a headache completely gone from his mind. If there was one thing he truly would never have expected to see, it was his fucking captain lying naked with one of their teammates. And yes, he _could_ judge – he might be bisexual but he wasn’t fucking married with a child when he was sleeping with Marco!

Mario sat in his car for a moment, his legs still shaking too much for him to confidently start driving so he pulled out his phone, expecting to find an email from Joachim apologising for not fielding him against Spain. He liked that about Joachim – even when he kicked you in the crotch and didn’t field you, he was always pretty nice about it. He still wanted to punch him in the face for it, but he appreciated the gesture.

But Mario didn’t find a consolation email. Instead, he found a blank email from Joachim with a list of the starting eleven attached.

_1 – Manuel Neuer_

_7 – Bastian Schweinsteiger_

_8 – Mesut Özil_

_9 – André Schürrle_

_10 – Lukas Podolski_

_11 – Miroslav Klose_

_16 – Philipp Lahm (C)_

_19 – Mario Götze_

_20 – Jérôme Boateng_

_21 – Marco Reus_

_25 – Thomas Müller_

Mario was startled.

He had been picked and there was no Hummels? No Kroos? Mario was so surprised by the line-up that it took him a few moments to realise that while neither Toni nor Mats had been fielded, Marco certainly had. Which meant that Mario had to face him not just in the match but at training beforehand, too. They had been sending occasional flirtatious messages back and forth over the past few weeks but nothing serious and Mario wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about seeing him in the flesh. Virtual contact, he could deal with. Virtual contact was safe and Mario could make believe that he didn’t really exist properly – he was just a person he was texting, no big deal. But seeing him in person was a whole different thing.

It almost made him get the mental image of Philipp and Thiago fucking on Toni’s sofa out of his mind.

Poor Toni, he didn’t make the starting eleven against Spain _and_ his white leather sofa was covered in cum stains.

When the high of being picked by Joachim and the shock of Philipp and Thiago began to wear off, Mario’s mind flickered back to the conversation he overheard but which had promptly ran out of his head once he’d opened the door. He had assumed it had been that he hadn’t been picked…but  he had.

So what the hell had they been talking about?


	6. Sunny

Ever since Jerome’s outburst towards him a few weeks earlier, he and Mario hadn’t really been speaking, save for when necessary in training but that was really nothing when considering the extreme awkwardness between him and his captain. Though it had been a week since he had walked in on Philipp and Thiago, the shock of it still hadn’t worn off. It did explain one or two things, though – like why they had been the only two not out by the pool the first time David took him to Toni’s house for a party and why Philipp had been so supportive of him and assuring that he would get no shit from the team. Mario hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He would never have guessed either of them was even interested in men, let alone interested in each other and the fact that Philipp was not only married, but had a child was really messing with Mario’s head. He wouldn’t tell – it wasn’t his secret to tell, after all. But just knowing about it was a burden that he really didn’t need in his life.

It was consuming his mind so much that he almost forgot about the fact that he would be seeing Marco again pretty damn soon.

Mario and the men from Bayern were on the plane heading up to Berlin from Munich. He was sitting with Toni and they were chatting about Toni’s new family, passing the time on the short flight.

“I hate weeks like this, you know? Going back to that sterile hotel room and not being with them…it’s shit. I don’t know how Jerome does it with _two_ kids.” Mario listened to Toni while staring at Philipp across the row. Mario didn’t have any children so the enormity of what Philipp was doing only hit him while Toni was speaking.

“Can I ask you something?” Mario said, dipping his voice slightly.

“Sure, what?” Toni shrugged and leaned a little closer to Mario.

“Guys didn’t really do this in Dortmund but I hear most do…” Mario trailed off for a moment.

“Most do what?”

“Like…sleep around. And, like…cheat on their partners. Do the guys do that here?” Toni frowned at Mario’s question.

“Well, I don’t. I know Jerome has a few times but that’s an open secret.”

“What about Philipp?” Toni peered at Mario, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“He doesn’t…that I know of, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s a pretty secretive guy. Whenever we have an away game, have you noticed that he will never come to the bar with us? Or if he does, he leaves real early? And he never answers the door if you go to his room. It’s weird.”

“But Thiago doesn’t either,” Mario hesitantly pointed out.

“Yeah but he doesn’t drink.” Toni shrugged and took a drink.

Mario quickly dropped the subject and they spent the last half an hour of the flight talking about how good bacon, maple syrup, marshmallows and crushed walnuts would taste together.

Once their flight landed in Berlin, the Bayern men all got taxis to their hotel and, after checking in, they all headed to the bar. They all ordered beers and sat in a booth in the private bar, excitedly talking about the upcoming match at the end of the week.

“Schürrle!” Bastian stood up to welcome André with a tremendous clap on the back, making the younger man stumble with the force. André sat beside Mario and they began chatting casually, catching up. Before André transferred to Chelsea at the start of the year, he and Mario used to see each other regularly in the Bundesliga and during breaks but since moving to England, they had hardly had time to even exchange a few texts.

“So, that shit about Marco…that true?” André slipped in quietly as the men around them talked loudly amongst themselves, not paying any attention to their conversation. Mario sighed at the admittedly inevitable question and took a drink from his beer before answering, “Hey, I know it’s a personal thing but I had to ask, right? I mean, it’s huge!”

“It is true. Well, sort of,” Mario swallowed nervously at the look of André’s bewildered expression, “Ann embellished the whole thing. Most of what she said was bull. But, essentially, yeah. Me and Marco had a relationship and I did end my relationship with Ann to be with him…and Marco did fuck her behind my back. And all that stuff about her and Marco being in a relationship is complete shit. They were just…screwing,” Mario wrinkled his nose. He hated acknowledging that Marco and Ann had… _been together_.

“Wow,” André shook his head and put a comforting hand on Mario’s back, “I’m sorry man,” Mario shrugged. He didn’t really know what else to say – he was just pretty bored and irritated of talking about it, “And the Bayern guys know all this?” Mario nodded.

“Yeah. I wasn’t planning on it but after Ann’s interview, and Marco and Mats’ altercation…kinda had no choice.” André nodded understandingly.

“I guess that’s why Marco didn’t come in here then.” Mario snapped his head up at André’s remark.

“He’s here?”

“Yeah, I saw him in reception and he said he was just going to go crash in his room.” Mario nodded thoughtfully and took a long drink from his beer while André peered at him, awkwardly scratching his neck, “Why didn’t you tell me, man?”

“Well, after everything that happened, I just didn’t want to talk about it and-”

“No,” André interrupted, “I mean, why didn’t you tell me about you and Marco while you were together? I thought we were good friends, I didn’t even know you were into guys!” Mario was a little taken aback.

“Well, I just-”

“I don’t get it, man. Are you gay or what?” André confronted him, his voice harsher now and for the first time in months, Mario felt him retreat into himself mentally. He sank back into his chair and hung his head, swallowing as he avoided eye contact with André, “Mario?” André’s voice was softer now but Mario barely heard him; all of his senses were concentrated on the tightening of his stomach and the hammering of his heart, “Mario!” André demanded, though only because he was frustrated by Mario’s lack of response.

“I’m sorry!” Mario blurted out, much louder than he expected and loud enough for the rest of the guys around the table to stop and stare at him.

“What’s going on?” Philipp asked and Mario glared at his captain.

“Nothing! Why does something always have to be going on? Just because _you_ like shit going on doesn’t mean the rest of us do!” All of the men glanced at each other, all with extremely confused looks on their faces.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Philipp frowned, clearly both confused and getting more than a little bit pissed off at the complete lack of respect Mario was displaying towards him. But Mario just scoffed at him.

“Why don’t you guess, _captain_?” The rest of the men went quiet, all confused and waiting to see what exactly was going on. Philipp glared at Mario and turned towards him.

“Don’t forget who you are talking to, Mario.” It was evident that Philipp was doing his absolute best to keep his voice steady and level.

“Who do you think you are? Just because you’re my team captain doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do off the pitch!” Mario was raising his voice now and André put his hand on his shoulder until he shrugged it off.

“Mario, Mario come on, I didn’t mean to set you off, I know it’s a sensitive subject,” André tried to reason but Mario just snarled.

“Mario-” Thomas started but Mario scoffed and stood abruptly, cutting him off for a moment, “Mario, is this because Marco’s here?”

“Not everything in my fucking life revolves around Marco _bastard_ Reus!” Mario shouted, his face flushing red as his teammates stared at him, all of them completely bemused before Mario turned on his heel and stormed out of the bar. He didn’t even pause to contemplate his actions as he ran up the stairs to the fifth floor and went to his room. His pulse was racing, his hands were clammy and all he wanted to do was curl up in the deliciously soft King size bed and have a good, long, frustrated cry. He needed that cathartic release so badly. He hated talking about Marco; it was bad enough just thinking about that entire episode but having to explain it to André, who used to be such a good friend to him, and then be hit by the realisation that he had been so selfish in keeping their former relationship private from those closest to him, was just horrible to think of. And then to know that everyone was focused on his shit when their own _captain_ was fucking Thiago even though he had a wife and child was just so trying. Actually, no, it wasn’t _trying_ – it was so fucking infuriating that he wanted to put his own face through a window.

He unlocked the hotel room door, stepped inside and was absolutely positive his heart had stopped when he did.

“Hello, Sunny.” Mario just stared at Marco for a moment, his lips slightly parted in disbelief. He was standing in the doorway to the lounge where he’s obviously positioned himself when he heard Mario’s key in the lock. Mario just gaped at him for a moment. He just wasn’t expecting to see him there.

“S-sunny?” Mario managed to choke out, well aware that Marco’s choice of address wasn’t really the main focal point here. Marco slowly approached him – as if wary of frightening him off – and took Mario’s hand in his own, smiling softly.

“I told you that you are my sunshine right?” Marco locked eyes with Mario as he brought his hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles gently. Mario’s breath was shallow now. He could hardly believe Marco was even in his hotel room at all and feeling his touch, his lips…it was just overwhelming.

“I was going to stay away, Mario. Really, I was,” Marco rasped, “but knowing that you were here,” he stepped closer to Mario so that their chests were pressed together, “how could I possibly stay away?” Marco whispered against Mario’s lips, “Relax,” He murmured as he felt Mario tremble against him but he didn’t make any effort to move.

“Marco, please…” Mario whispered but Marco didn’t either move away or lean in which only made him make the move and initiate the sweet kiss himself. As they kissed slowly, almost innocently, Marco snaked his arms around Mario’s waist, holding him in place and steadying his tremours. Mario felt his heart drop into his stomach as they kissed. It felt so sweet. Too sweet. So sweet that it felt intoxicating; Mario wrapped his arms around Marco’s neck and drew him closer, needing every inch of him, needing to be as close as humanly possible to him. Desperate, he deepened the kiss, unable to resist moaning as he tasted him again.

As they backed up against the bed and fell down onto it, Marco reluctantly left Mario’s lips and trailed his own down to his neck where he kissed, licked and sucked. Mario could feel Marco’s smirk when he moaned and Mario realised that he had forgotten just how well Marco knew how to touch him and how to taste him. And for just a second, Mario wondered why he had ever let Marco go.

Only for a second, though.

“No! No, Marco! You can’t just kiss me and think that that makes everything that happened go away!” Mario cried as he grabbed Marco and pushed him off of him as he jumped up, “It doesn’t change _anything_ , Marco!” Marco sat on the edge of the bed in front of Mario, holding his head in his hands.

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry.” He muttered, to Mario’s exasperation.

“You’re _sorry_? Marco, you gave me chlamydia!” Mario shouted, furiously blinking back his tears, “How do you think that felt?  Klopp knows that I had an STI. _Guardiola_ , my new coach – a man I’ve admired for years! – knew that I had a fucking STI. They probably thought I was some kind of fucking man whore! Do you know Bayern nearly voided my contract because of that? And all because of _you_ , you sick son of a bitch!”

“Hey, I had chlamydia too!” Marco mumbled and Mario just stared at him, incredulous.

“ _Seriously_?” Mario screeched and Marco raised his hands up in defeat.

“Yeah, ok. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck,” Mario sighed and sat beside Marco on the edge of the bed, “I don’t want to talk about that. I am so sick of talking about all the shit between me and you. It’s boring. It’s exhausting,” Mario held his head in his hands and groaned, “It’s given me a fucking headache.” On hearing Mario’s words, Marco leaned back and crawled back properly onto the bed.

“So we don’t have to talk about it. Just come here,” He murmured and Mario looked behind him, biting his lip hesitantly, “Not to do anything…let me just hold you, Sunny.” Mario’s stomach tightened at the sound of his new nickname and the very thought of being held in Marco’s arms again. And that was why he found himself kicking off his jeans and crawling beneath the covers that Marco had already pulled back. He quickly peeled out his shirt and turned out the lights in the bedroom before joining Mario in bed.

Marco did nothing to push Mario – he didn’t even touch him beyond holding his hand. He merely lay beside Mario and waited for him to roll over onto his side and run his hand over his chest slowly. Mario’s touch was slow, soft and made Marco shiver. Marco wrapped an arm around Mario’s shoulders, drawing him even closer and Mario sighed as he inhaled Marco’s softly familiar and so comforting musky scent.

“Tell me what’s got you so frustrated. It’s not just us, is it?” Marco murmured with his voice barely above a whisper and Mario mentally cursed him for being able to read him so well, “Mario?”

“I just found something out and it’s pretty bad and I don’t really know what to do. Well…I _do_ because it’s not my secret to tell so I can’t really do anything about it but it’s so…” Mario trailed off, not really knowing what else to say as Marco wrapped his other arm around him, holding him close.

“You can tell me anything,” Marco whispered but Mario shook his head.

“I can’t,” He whispered back and Marco stroked his hair, “It would fuck up so much stuff if it got out.”

“Shh, it’s ok.” Marco cocooned Mario in his arms and started to rock him slowly while Mario clung to him. They lay together in complete silence for a moment, sharing body heat and entangling their limbs. Mario lost himself for a moment in Marco’s scent, in his soft skin and strong, taut muscles. While he was with Marco, it didn’t matter if they were in this bed, another bed or anywhere else; it was just irrelevant. As much as he hated it, Marco made everything seem alright, seem almost insignificant.

“They all hate me right now,” Mario rasped.

“Who?” Marco asked and Mario’s stomach jumped as he heard the note of concern in his voice.

“The guys downstairs. I was a dick to Philipp and they all think it was for no reason.” Marco didn’t reply to Mario for a moment and just stroked his back.

“But it wasn’t for no reason?”

“No.”

“So, what was the reason?” When Mario didn’t reply, Marco leaned down and kissed the top of his head, running his long fingers through his soft hair, “Mario? Is this about that secret? Is it about Philipp?” Mario just nodded, “You can tell me.”

“Philipp and Thiago,” He whispered and Marco’s hand that was weaving through his hair faltered.

“W-what about them?”

“They’re together.”


	7. No One Likes You

As quietly as he could, Marco crept back into Mario’s bedroom and smiled as he saw Mario sleeping just as soundly as he was when Marco left half an hour earlier. He peeled his shirt back off and settled back in bed, gently pulling Mario back into his arms. He had left just a few moments after Mario had drifted off to sleep and that was the worst time to leave Mario because it was the time where he looked the most irresistible. His hair was a mess, his pouty, soft pink lips were parted and, matched with a scruffy beard, he looked gorgeous. There was no other word.

A few times, Mario stirred in his sleep and each time Marco would stroke his hair and kiss his fingers and he would settle right back down again. Marco missed this, he really did. Over the summer, he had come to the realisation that Mario was the most important person in his life at that moment and that was why he craved him so badly. It wasn’t anything to do with his sexuality because he was not gay. He was so infatuated with Mario because he was such a mesmerising person: a world class footballer, a gentle soul, incredibly beautiful…Marco was attracted to him because of _who_ he was, not what he was. He loved his soul, not his penis.

Marco lay awake with a half smirk across his lips. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what Mario told him just before he fell asleep; to say he was stunned was a complete understatement. Philipp Lahm and Thiago _Alcântara_? It was completely unbelievable. Yes, it was a secret homosexual relationship, just like his and Mario’s but if it got out? It wouldn’t just be a case of bad press, a few pissed off fans and some heavy tension in the team; it would be a case of a family breaking up! And surely the press wouldn’t allow for Philipp to remain captain of Bayern? Marco could just imagine the reaction amongst the team’s more conservative fans. The whole story just reinforced the false negative stereotypes about gay men: a strong, older man in a position of authority, seducing a younger man hungry for success? Philipp could lose everything. And maybe it was hypocritical but Marco knew that he simply couldn’t be in possession of this information without doing something with it.

He just wasn’t sure what yet.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Philipp; they had always got along just fine in team training. But he had always been the Prince with the perfect family, captain of one of the best teams not only in Germany, but the _world_ and one of the best national teams in the world. He had the utmost respect from all of his teammates and he was quite clearly an absolute control freak.

Maybe it was time for the Prince of German football to be demoted to Joker.

Marco jumped as there was a knock at the door. He glanced at his phone: 03:08. Who the hell wanted Mario at three A.M.? He decided to ignore it and just hope that they would go away and it wouldn’t disturb Mario. But whoever it was just kept knocking at the door, getting louder and Mario started stirring, scrunching up his face and turned around in his sleep. Gently, Marco sat up and rolled Mario away from him, softly settling him down on the sheets before padding quietly across the bedroom, out to the lounge and to the door. Marco peered through the peep hole and frowned as he saw André on the other side of the door.

And he wasn’t about to stop knocking the door.

Hoping that Mario wasn’t awake, Marco threw open the door and feigned a yawn.

“Man, it’s like three in the morning, what the hell do you want?” Marco crossed his arms, watching as André frowned at him, confused and somewhat bewildered at being presented by Marco just in his pants.

“Is Mario in there?” André asked, a frown still on his face.

“Why?” Marco asked, blocking the door while André scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Listen, _Reus_ , Phillip and Thiago told me all about your dirty little secret so unless you want me to tell Mario at training tomorrow, you will let me see him now.” Marco found he couldn’t stop himself from laughing as André scowled at him.

“You realise that Mario, along with the whole country, already knows about me and Ann, right? Jesus, Schürrle, if you’re going to blackmail me, try not to make yourself look foolish in the process.” Marco expected André to back off but instead he shook his head and returned Marco’s smirk.

“I’m not talking about your filthy affair with Ann. I’m talking about why you were in Vienna last week.” André hissed and Marco swore he could feel his heart stop.

“Big deal. Everyone knows I was in Vienna last week. It was on the front page of BILD, it’s not like it was a secret.” Marco tried to shrug nonchalantly, but inside, he was trembling.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Quit the act and get Mario.” André glared at Marco and he relented slightly.

“He’s asleep.”

“I don’t care. Go and get him.” André insisted and Marco groaned, turning on his heel and heading back inside to the bedroom. Mario was still sleeping soundly, curled up in the sheets and, in Marco’s absence, he had reached for a pillow to hold in his arms.

“Mario?” Marco whispered as he approached the bed. He didn’t make any movement so Marco leaned over him and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly, “Mario?”

“Wha…?” Mario muttered with his eyes still closed, turning over onto his side.

“Wake up, André wants to talk to you.” Mario’s eyes fluttered open as Marco spoke and he looked so sweet that Marco simply could not resist leaning down to kiss his soft lips. It lasted only a second and they both smiled against each other.

“C’mon, André needs to talk to you.”

“What?” Mario croaked as he groggily sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“André is at the door. He wants to talk to you, sweetie,” Marco brushed the hair away from his forehead and smiled at him softly, “Come on, he’s waiting.”

“H-he knows you’re here?” Mario asked, biting his lip.

“He was banging the door. I had to answer it, I didn’t want it to wake you.” With a groan, Mario dragged himself out of bed and clumsily stumbled out of the room and to the front door. Marco thought it was probably wise to stay in the bedroom out of their way, though of course, he took his place as close to the bedroom door as possible.

“Man, it’s like three in the morning. What the hell?”

“ _Me_ what the hell? You have that bastard back in your bed? Jesus, Mario. That really didn’t take him very long did it?”

“Fuck you, we haven’t been fucking.”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Look, it’s Thiago.” Marco frowned and held his breath, not wanting to miss a word.

“What about him?”

“He’s missing.”

“Missing? What do you mean?” Marco could hear the hesitancy in Mario’s voice.

“We can’t find him! He was with Bastian until two and now he’s not in his room!”

Marco could practically feel the sweat drip down his back.

“How do you know he isn’t in his room? He might just not be answering because he’s asleep, it _is_ three in the morning,” Mario reasoned.

“No! Bastian said that after we left the bar, he went to his room for a nightcap and they played some cards and gambled and then he said Thiago left at like two-ish. Bastian assumed he had gone back to his room but reception said that his key card hasn’t been used since they issued it to him!”

“So, no one has seen him for over an hour and he’s not in his room?”

“No! Are you sure you haven’t heard from him since two?”

“No, no, I haven’t, I’m sorry…have you talked to Philipp?”

“No, not yet. Me and Bastian didn’t want to wake him, he has to get up earlier than us in the morning to set some shit up for the training with Joachim.”

“How did you even realise that he was missing?”

“The hotel’s reception contacted Vicente - Spain's manager - at half past two to report that one of the players hadn’t yet gone back to their room for the night. Because he travelled up here with us, Vicente contacted Joachim and he let us know.”

Marco rolled his eyes and tried to resist laughing as he realised he was probably having the same thought as Mario: _The bastard isn’t missing – he’s busy fucking Philipp_.

“Uh, maybe you should phone Philipp.”

“Why? What difference would it make, he’s asleep.”

“He’s the captain. He should know.”

"He's not Thiago's captain. Shouldn't I tell Iker,  _Spain's_ captain?"

"Oh...yeah...but, y'know, Philipp is pretty close to Thiago so he might have some idea."

"He's  _asleep_ , Mario."

"Can't hurt though, right?"

“Right…well, maybe I will. I can tell you’re eager to get back to Marco so I’ll let you go.”

“André, I-”

“Goodnight, Mario.” Marco heard the door shut and he went out to the small hallway where Mario was now leaning against the wall, sighing heavily.

“He’s with Philipp, right?” Marco asked softly.

“Probably. God, he’s a sick fuck. Philipp has a wife and child! How could he do that to them? Imagine finding out that your father was cheating on your mother with another man. That’s one sure way to fuck a kid’s head up. He _knows_ that there is a time limit when we all need to be in our rooms and he _knows_  the managers is made aware of when we aren’t in our rooms. Yet he still has him in there. He’s nothing but a selfish cunt,”

“It’s not your problem, Mario,” Marco approached him and placed a hand lightly upon his cheek, “Just try not to let it bother you.” He leaned it and they shared a small, chaste kiss.

“But what about when it eventually comes out? And then everyone finds out that I knew? They’re all going to hate me!” Mario wailed and Marco sighed, dropping his hand to envelope one of Mario’s hands in both of his own.

“Far be it from be to state the obvious but, you haven’t even been at Bayern for very long and you already know. I find it pretty hard to believe that you’re the only one who does.”

“Well…I don’t-”

“How did you find out?” Marco pushed and Mario just shrugged.

“We had a party at Toni’s and the next morning, I went downstairs and found them naked together on the sofa.” Mario wrinkled up his nose at the memory and, normally, Marco would have laughed but his mind was going a thousand miles an hour.

“Right, so they aren’t exactly _discreet,_ are they? If they’re happy enough to be _that_ blasé about it then that doesn’t really suggest that they are particularly concerned about keeping their filthy affair a secret, does it?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it _filthy_ , but-”

“Some of your teammates know. They must do,” Marco said pointedly, “I am telling you, they know.” Mario just stared at him, an eyebrow raised, confused.

“How can you possibly know that? We were all _pissed_ that night, they could have just not been thinking. Let me tell you, they looked pretty damn panicked when I walked in. _Me!_ And I’m the one who is actually interested in men!” There was a pause for a moment before Marco tugged on Mario’s hand and started walking back towards the bedroom.

“C’mon. This isn’t your fault, there’s no point dwelling on it.”

“But what about Thiago?”

“I’m sure they’ll find him eventually and him and Philipp will make up some bullshit excuse about why they were hanging out so late. Now, go to bed, we have to get up early for training remember?”

When they got back to the bedroom, Mario noticed his phone flashing with a message from André.

“Marco…they managed to get hold of Philipp and he has no idea where Thiago is either.” Marco stopped in his tracks, hair prickling the back of his neck.

“What?”

“Apparently he’s frantic and helping them look for him.”

“Don’t worry,” Marco said, though his voice was shaky, “He’s probably just covering for himself and is sneaking Thiago back to his own room as we speak,” Marco was glad it was dark so Mario couldn’t see the beads of sweat across his forehead.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Mario muttered as he slid into bed and sighed, closing his eyes.

“Hey, how come no one came looking for me?” Marco said, indignantly, trying to lighten the atmosphere, “Joachim should have got a message saying I was missing too! How come there’s no fucking search party for me?”

“No one likes you, Marco. That’s why.” Mario meant it as a joke, but as Marco laughed, he knew that there was more than a grain of truth to it.


	8. Release

The next morning, Mario woke up to the deliciously familiar scent of Marco surrounding him. It was like some kind of corny set up from an old romance movie; the cool morning sun was streaming in through the thin net curtains and through the small open window, the small breeze washing over him. Marco’s arms were still wrapped around his waist and he was pressed against the hard muscle of Marco’s torso. Mario glanced at the clock on the bedside table, sighing as he saw that they only had ten minutes until they had to get up and get ready for training. Which meant that there really wasn’t much time at all before he had to face everyone. Who probably all knew that he and Marco had spent the night together. And even though he was perfectly aware and happy that nothing actually happened, he seriously doubted anyone else was going to believe that.

As he trailed his fingers over Marco’s chest, he found himself wishing that something had actually happened between them. If everyone thought they had fucked anyway, it would have been nice to have the satisfaction that he had actually had an incredible night.

Mario cuddled back into Marco’s chest, wanting to savour every moment that they had together until they had to get out of bed for the gruelling training day ahead.

But then, of course, his phone started vibrating persistently and, with heavy eyes, he dug around under his pillow and retrieved it.

“Hello?” He mumbled groggily.

 _“Have you seen the front cover of Kronen Zeitung yet?”_ It was his agent.

“The front cover of what?”

“Kronen Zeitung, Mario! It’s like the Austrian version of BILD!”

“Well, no. I’m still in bed.”

 _“They know you killed Carolin, Mario,”_ His heart instantly stopped, _“I had no idea they press knew about it, they didn’t even contact me for comment so there was no way we could have anticipated this. Look, I’ve contacted Joachim and he’s excused you from training for the day. I’ll be at your hotel in two hours. Stay there and do not answer any phone calls, text messages or emails you get and do not speak to anyone, understand? Just turn off your phone and stay in your room. We will sort this out, ok?”_

“Yeah,” Mario breathed, his head in a complete daze. He dropped his phone, suddenly not in control of his own movements. Apparently, he’d dropped it onto Marco because he absentmindedly noticed him jerk and sit up awake.

“Mario?”

“They know,” Mario whispered as he stared at the beige wall in front of him, “They know I killed Carolin.”

“The press?”

“Yeah. Peter just called me,” Mario was only somewhat aware how faint and croaky his voice was as his head spun and Marco pulled him into his arms, kissing the top of his head, “How did they find out? What if Bayern drop me? What if I get arrested?” Mario was sobbing now and Marco rocked him slowly back and forth.

“Shh. You’re not going to get arrested, the police did their investigation while you were in hospital, remember sweetie? They ruled it to be an accident, ok?” Marco brushed the hair back from Mario’s bright red eyes and wiped away his tears with the pad of his thumb, “And Bayern can’t drop you just because of an accident, alright?” Mario clung to Marco, tears wetting the crook of his neck.

“How did they find out?” Mario hiccupped, sniffing as he tried to wipe away his tears, “I thought it was sorted!”

“Shh,” Marco tried to comfort Mario, rocking him back and forth like a distressed child, “We’re going to get through this, ok? I promise. You’ve just had a shock and everything seems really bad now but it’s going to be alright. I’m here, I’m going to look after you,” Marco’s soft, reassuring words only slightly eased the ache in the pit of Mario’s stomach but the feel of his hands stroking his bare back served to take the edge off his anxiety.

But then Mario’s phone began vibrating persistently. He tried to reach for it but Marco grabbed his wrists, restraining him.

“Don’t. It’ll just be some fucking journalist.” But though Mario struggled against Marco, he couldn’t bring himself to overpower him, not while he was still shaking in confusion.

“What if it’s my mother? She’ll be worried! She’ll be going crazy! I can’t let her worry, please just let me-”

Marco cut Mario off with a firm kiss to his trembling lips.

After a mere few seconds, Marco broke away and the two of them stared at each other for a moment.

“Mario, I’m sorry, I-”

The two of them fell back onto the bed as Mario launched himself at Marco. With complete desperation shaded with panic, Mario pinned Marco beneath him and kissed him feverishly, groaning as their bare chests pressed together and he began to grind down onto Marco, biting his lip as he realised his thick erection.

“Mario…” Marco murmured as Mario reluctantly left his lips and dragged his own down to his neck.

“Mmm, Marco…” Mario moaned against Marco’s pale skin, groaning in protest as Marco gently but firmly pushed him away.

“Mario, stop,” Marco whispered, sighing as Mario collapsed down in disappointment against his chest, “I’m sorry sweetie, I know you need a release right now but you don’t really want this, ok? You’re confused,” Marco said softly, soothingly as Mario rolled off him and held his head in his hands.

“Just leave. You have training,” Mario muttered and Marco didn’t even bother to argue – he just pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, grabbed his phone and left quickly.

It took a few minutes before Mario noticed that Marco had taken his phone too, presumably to stop him from giving in to temptation and reading all the messages, answering the calls and looking up the story online. Mario’s stomach jumped as he realised that he couldn’t look up the story now – he’d left his tablet and laptop back in Munich – though maybe that was a good thing, he didn’t want to think about the shit the press were making up at that moment, never mind the abuse he would undoubtedly be getting on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram.

His head started throbbing.

Something caught his eye on the floor next to the bed where Marco’s jeans had been. Mario leaned over and picked up the small bag. His already shaking hands were almost uncontrollable now as he opened it. He dipped a finger inside and brought the trace of white powder left on the pad of his index finger to his lips, tasting it.

“Shit.”

Mario had taken cocaine before. Only once, when he was sixteen. Fabian had taken him to a club on his eighteenth birthday with a bunch of his friends. One had brought some coke and Fabian had let him do a line. Mario, having drank more than a few beers before and afterwards, didn’t remember much except that he felt fantastic. Better than he ever had before.

He missed that feeling.

With the small bag in his hand, he glanced at the clock on the bedside table. He had just over an hour and a half before his agent was going to get there. So he had a whole ninety minutes before he could command any sort of control over the situation. With tears in his eyes that soon rolled down his cheeks, Mario could only pray that his agent was doing some serious damage control on his journey. He pulled himself up off the bed and dragged his feet over to the bathroom, his stomach tight with knots and his feet heavy.

Mario absentmindedly sat on the edge of the bathtub and reached over to start the water running.

His hands were still shaking as he poured the powder out onto the counter and cut some into a line with his room card.

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t,” Mario whispered, his voice trembling horribly. But despite his soft verbal protests to himself, he rolled up a twenty euro note and snorted. He did it quickly, his head spinning.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” His nose burnt a little and it tasted like play-doh. He slammed his fist down onto the counter and sat on the edge of the bath, trying to steady himself.

He didn’t want to think about Carolin.

He didn’t want to think about the press.

He didn’t want to think about Marco.

He didn’t want to think.

So he didn’t. And he was perfectly happy in that moment.

Mario stared at himself in the mirror and grinned, looking himself in the eye intensely for just a moment before blowing a kiss and beginning to unbutton his jeans. He kicked them off and groaned in appreciation as his naked body was freed from any constraints. He suddenly developed a bout of uncontrollable laughter as he wrapped his hand around his cock.

It was rock hard, throbbing as his cold hand made contact. He was sure he had never felt it so hard, so thick, so ready. He just wanted to sink into something hot. Something tight. Something wet.

Pussy. He wanted pussy.

The image of Ann-Kathrin flashed in his mind and he gripped the edge of the bath as he stroked his cock hard thinking of her writhing beneath him.

It wasn’t long before he roared with laughter as he shot cum all over his hand and on the floor before him.

He suddenly noticed that the bath was still running and it was now three quarters full. Steam was billowing off the surface of the water and Mario smiled lazily, biting his lip as he stepped into the bath and emmersed one and then both feet, ankles and shins into the water.

It was hot.

Didn’t matter.

It was really hot.

It’s fine.

It was burning but Mario didn’t realise. His head was light.

And with one deep breath, he collapsed.


	9. Gin

Marco pulled on his jersey and, as a finishing touch, he turned towards the mirror to style his hair. He briefly thought of Mario’s predicament and shrugged it off, jumping slightly when there was a knock at the door. Annoyed since he hadn’t quite finished doing his hair, he flung open the door to find a man who Marco vaguely recognised as Mario’s agent.

“Is Mario here?” He asked and Marco immediately saw the concern etched across his face.

“Uh, no. I left him in his room. Why?” Marco peered at the small man as he ran a hand over his bald head.

“He’s not answering and he isn’t with Joachim. I thought he might be with you…shit,” He jumped in panic as his phone started ringing, “Fuck, that’ll be BILD. Look, just find him! And make sure he calls me.” And with that he scuttled away; somewhat reminiscent of a limping beetle. Barely thinking, Marco grabbed his key card and ran the opposite way down the hallway, towards Mario’s room.

He didn’t want to panic. He was sure that it was just a case of Mario not wanting to face the reality of the situation before him. At least, he hoped so, anyway.

Marco reached Mario’s hotel room and instinctively tried the door. Of course, it was locked. He knocked on the door sharply but didn’t even hear any movement inside to indicate movement.

“Mario! Mario it’s me, it’s Marco. Let me in!” But still nothing. Marco even pressed his ear against the door but could hear no signs of life from the room within. The pit of Marco’s stomach began to ache and he automatically knew something was not right; with a lump in his throat he sprinted back down the hallway back to his own room, his mind clouded yet still sharply focused. He pushed open his door and grabbed the jeans he had been wearing the night before, shoving his hands in each of the pockets.

“Fuck no,” He muttered, his voice strained and he searched on the floor around where he’d dumped his jeans.

But his bag of coke wasn’t there.

“No, Mario. You stupid boy,” He threw his jeans back down and tore back out of the room and straight down the stairs to the reception where he was faced with a young woman who apparently recognised him instantly judging by the bright red flush that overcame her cheeks.

Marco smirked.

He leaned over the desk and flashed her his crooked smile.

“Do you know, you have the most beautiful eyes I think I’ve ever seen?” It was lame, he knew that but she was immediately overwhelmed with giggles and batted her eyelashes at him.

“You think so?” She asked in a voice so high and sweet Marco wanted to wrinkle his nose.

“I could get lost in them,” He reached over and tucked a loose strand of her platinum blonde hair – with a dark brown root – behind her ear, “Listen, my friend drank way too much last night and is passed out in my room. I really need to get his kit for training but he’s lost his key card…any chance you could help me out, darling?” He could see her hesitating, silently agonising whether to break strict hotel policy, “If you could help me out, I would really appreciate it,” He smirked, biting his lip as he darted his eyes down to hers.

“W-what number room is your friend in?” She stuttered and Marco inwardly chuckled.

“309.” She grabbed a key card and swiped it through a small device, encoding it before handing it over, her cheeks still bright red.

“Thank you darling, I won’t forget this.” With a smirk and a wink, Marco grabbed the card and sprinted back upstairs, the pain in his stomach tightening. He swiped the card and pushed the door open, tears of frustration springing to his eyes when he ran into both the lounge and the bedroom without finding any sign of Mario.

“Mario! Answer me!” He called out, his voice marred with the threat of breaking.

Then he heard it.

A groan.

Marco spun around and burst into the bathroom, his knees going weak as he saw Mario lying in the bath, naked, his head lolling like a rag doll’s over the side. He had to grab onto the door in order to stay standing as he took in Mario’s white-green face. His face was drenched and not from water but from sweat.

“Mario…” Marco sank to his knees and, panicked, he grabbed hold of his hand and wiped the sweat from his brow. Mario didn’t meet his eyes; his unblinking eyes were staring up at the ceiling, “Baby, please, can you hear me?” Still Mario said nothing, “Mario, what have you taken?”

“You…your…” Mario strained but he couldn’t get his words out.

“Cocaine? Mario, have you taken cocaine? Baby, I need to know, _have you taken cocaine_?” Marco’s heart sank as Mario struggled to force out a slight nod of his head. With his head clouded with worry and his heart hammering, Marco wrapped his arms around Mario’s chest, under his arms and hauled him out of the bath, groaning as the two of them collapsed back onto the bathroom floor.

“Can you stand up?” Marco wasn’t sure why he bothered asking; Mario could barely keep his eyes open, let alone stand on his own two feet. Struggling up onto his own feet, Marco leaned down and picked Mario’s wet, naked body up into his arms.  He somehow managed to drag him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom before eventually resting him down on the bed.

“He-help,” Mario gasped out, grabbing onto Marco’s wrist feebly, “I need help…” He groaned but Marco just wiped his sweat-drenched forehead and shook his head.

“No, no sweetie, you’re fine. You’re going to be alright, I promise,” Marco stroked his sweaty forehead and held his hand tightly as Mario closed his eyes and breathed heavily while he lied naked on the silk sheets, “Are you hot? Do you want anything? A drink?” Mario grunted in the affirmative and, with shaking legs, Marco jumped off the bed and went straight to the kitchen, pulling an ice cold bottle of water from the mini bar. With his head spinning so fast it felt like it might fly off, he fell back onto one of the kitchen chairs. He knew that he really should call for an ambulance or at the very least, a doctor. But he knew that he couldn’t risk the media finding out that Mario had taken cocaine. Marco also knew that if Bayern found out he had taken cocaine, he would most probably be dropped from the team. And apart from anything else, he couldn’t risk anyone finding out he was in possession of cocaine.

Marco shook his head. So what he took cocaine? Big deal.

“MARCO!” It was a feeble shout but probably the loudest Mario could muster and the pain laced through it made Marco’s heart twist. It sounded just like when he was in the hospital in Frankfurt and he had woke up from a bad dream but Marco was in the bathroom. It was a cry that conveyed everything – sadness, desperation and a need for Marco to be there and assure him everything was going to be alright. It was a cry that ripped Marco from his seat and made him tear into the bathroom, his eyes stinging as he saw Mario shaking on the bed as he sobbed.

“What’s wrong? Mario, tell me,” Marco knelt on the side of the bed, grasping Mario’s hands in his own.

“Don’t leave me, will you?” The distrust in his voice speared through Marco’s stomach.

“Of course I won’t.”

“Because...because I know you don’t love me a-and I’m ok with that now but I just need you right now and I can’t-” Mario paused while he choked on his sobs and Marco blinked and swallowed rapidly, trying to keep his own at bay, “I can’t be without you.”

“I don’t think I can be without you either,” Marco whispered, running his fingers through Mario’s hair. He actually meant it too and Marco could see in Mario’s eyes that he believed him, “Why did you take that coke, sweetie?” Mario burst out with a sharp cry.

“I’m sorry! I just remembered when I took it when I was just a kid and it made me feel so good and I just felt so awful and I didn’t know what to do and…” Mario trailed off, “B-but it was yours, wasn’t it? Why did you have cocaine?”

“I was holding it for a friend,” Marco murmured as he continued to stroke back Mario’s hair and even in his addled state, he could tell that Mario didn’t believe him, “Are you feeling any better?” Mario jerked his head in an awkward nodding motion but made a little whimper.

“Can I have…” He signalled for the glass in Marco’s hand and, remembering himself, Marco pressed the glass to his lips, letting him take a long, appreciative drink. While he did so, Marco found his eyes wandering down his sweat drenched chest and to his crotch, where his soft penis was lying nonchalantly between his thighs.

“Are you still hot?” Mario nodded at the question and started panting a little, as if to emphasise the point, “There’s ice in the mini bar freezer, do you want some?” Mario nodded and Marco rushed back out, soon coming back with a glass full of ice cubes. He sat back on the sheets beside Mario and picked a cube out, offering it to his lips, unable to resist licking his own as Mario sucked it from his fingers and let out a relieved moan.

It was a slow, gradual process but throughout the afternoon, Mario gradually cooled down and became more and more coherent. Marco’s feeling of relief was almost overwhelming as Mario eventually came closer and closer to his regular self. He was still shaky and unsure of himself but Marco was beyond happy that he hadn’t become any worse and invited the call of an ambulance or worse, the media. By the time the evening rolled around, Mario was sat up in bed, smiling happily as he received such intense and focussed attention from Marco. They were curled up in the sheets playing cards while eating pre-made cheese sandwiches from the fridge.

“Go fish!” Mario exclaimed.

“I thought we were playing Gin?”

“Ok then. Gin!”

“You don’t have Gin,” Marco said as he peered at Mario’s cards.

“Yes I do. It’s in the mini bar.”

*

 _From:_[Anna.Kreuz@kronenzeitung.de](mailto:Anna.Kreuz@kronenzeitung.de)  
To:                          [woodyinho31589@live.de](mailto:woodyinho31589@live.de)  
Subject:                                Re: Vienna

_Mr. Reus,_

_May I first extend my gratitude towards you in regards to our meeting in Vienna last week. I very much appreciated doing business with you and I am sure we will continue to have a successful and profitable working relationship._

_However, I regret to report that the package you transferred to my person upon our meeting was fifty grams below the agreed amount. Since the rest of our transaction was conducted without fault, I shall assume that this was merely an innocent mistake._

_Please reply with haste._

_Miss A. Kreuz_


	10. Manipulative

“So…Marco and Mario are too busy fucking to come to training, Thiago is God-knows-where, there’s no Red Bull left and I haven’t had pussy in over a month. So today is a pretty fucked up day.” Toni muttered as he put his feet up on the railings of the balcony. Jerome snorted out a laugh, “What?”

“Shut up, Kroos. You think Reus and Götze have been fucking today?” He scoffed, causing Toni to raise an eyebrow.

“You think they haven’t been?”

“Haven’t you heard?”

“About what?”

“You really do live in your own little world, don’t you Kroos?”

“Would it kill you to call me Toni?”

“Whatever. You know Carolin Bohs?”

“Yeah? What, has she risen from the dead to stop Marco fucking Mario?” Toni grinned, laughing hard and only stopping when he saw the harsh look of disdain on Jerome’s face, “Ok…that _may_ have been in bad taste.” Jerome rolled his eyes at him and took a drink of his beer, a knowing smirk upon his lips.

“Bad taste, yes. Not completely inaccurate though.”

“No?”

“Well she’s not a ghost, you psycho. No, _Mario_ was the one who crashed into her.”

“Fuck off!” Toni cried out, kicking his feet away from the railings, turning towards Jerome abruptly, giving him his full attention while he looked at Toni, incredulous.

“How didn’t you hear about it? It was all over the fucking news all day.”

“No, no, no. I remember that day. Carolin was hit in a hit-and-run and Mario crashed on the Autobahn,” Toni protested but Jerome just shook his head slowly.

“Nah, that was a cover up. He never crashed on the fucking Autobahn. He was speeding and he crashed into Carolin,” Jerome asserted but Toni just shook his head.

“Wait, hold up. If he was speeding when he crashed into her, how come he wasn’t arrested?”

“Cover up! They didn’t say how he did it but he managed to convince the police to stay quiet and sell the media that bullshit,” Jerome asserted with a nod while Toni crossed his arms and sat back with a sigh.

“Unbelievable. I knew Marco was a cunt but I thought Mario was a good guy with a lot of shit luck. But he’s just a dick too, isn’t he?”

“Nah. That crash may have had Mario behind the wheel but there is no way he is the one who covered it up. How could it have been? He was in a coma for weeks. And he wouldn’t have done that anyway, he’s not that selfish especially since he’d already been exonerated by the police anyway. No, this has Reus written all over it.” Jerome asserted but Toni was still confused.

“I still don’t understand. Why would Marco bother doing that if Mario was cleared by the police of any wrongdoing?”

“Don’t you see? He did it to gain Mario’s trust, make him dependent on him. He is a manipulative son of a bitch and Mario is too in love with the bastard to see it.”

Toni was just about to reply to Jerome when the two men’s heads were jerked to the side by the sound of a sharp knock at the hotel door. With them being in Jerome’s suite, he took it upon himself to get up and go and answer the door where he was greeted by a pale, breathless Philipp Lahm.

“Is Thiago here?” He didn’t bother giving Jerome time to answer before he pushed past him and stormed into the room. He called out Thiago’s name repeatedly as he burst into the bathroom, the bedroom and the lounge before running out onto the balcony. Jerome followed him out onto the balcony and just looked at him with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on?” Toni asked, looking up at Philipp, his eyes full of bewilderment.

“ _Where is Thiago?!_ ” Philipp demanded, looking back and forth between Jerome and Toni.

“Sit down,” Jerome said quietly but firmly and Philipp just nodded, sitting in the spare wooden chair, “He isn’t here. I haven’t seen him since the night he went missing.”

“Shit,” Philipp groaned, running his hands through his hair before holding his face in them. Meanwhile, Toni peered at Jerome thoughfully.

“You saw Thiago last night?” Toni asked causing Philipp’s head to snap back up and Jerome to frown.

“Yeah, we all did.” He shrugged but Philipp shook his head.

“No. _I_ saw him last night. The rest of you say him in the mid-afternoon. You didn’t see him in the night.”

“Yeah well, afternoon, night, same thing,” Jerome shrugged again, avoiding meeting Philipp or Toni’s eyes.

“No it isn’t,” Toni murmured.

“Did you see him, Jerome? I’m not angry at you, I just _need_ to know where he is! Please, if you know any-”

“I don’t!” Jerome cut him off, his voice edged with irritation, “It was a slip of the tongue, alright? I’m sorry Philipp, I know that you’re frustrated right now but the last time I saw Thiago was when we were all together, ok?” With a sigh at Jerome’s outburst, Philipp nodded his head slowly and stood up, turning on his heel before leaving the hotel suite without a word. Both Toni and Jerome sat in silence for a moment, both of them digesting what had just unfurled in front of them.

It was Toni who broke the silence.

“You would tell me if you had seen Thiago last night, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck off, Kroos.”


	11. Crash

The next morning, Marco rolled out of Mario’s bed and, bleary eyed, he headed straight for the bathroom. Peeling off his boxers, he turned on the shower and stepped into it, sighing as the hot water cascaded over his body. As he ran his hands over his body, lower down on his chest until he reached his toned stomach, he suddenly became painfully aware that he hadn’t had an orgasm in weeks; jacking off hadn’t even entered his mind and now the thought of a naked Mario in the bed he just left was making his head spin. He grimaced as his cock started getting hard. He always felt a bit sick every time he got an erection on account of Mario; he knew he wasn’t gay because he was the only man to have ever aroused him. That only made him feel marginally better.

  
But was he? Marco couldn’t ignore the time he’d gone to a gay bar on the outskirts of Dortmund and had a blowjob from some random guy. He was so…cute. With a round face and big doe eyes. He was feminine and had gentle curves. It wasn’t like holding a man; it wasn’t like kissing a man. He was soft. More of a woman than a man.  
But Marco couldn’t block out the fact that it had been Mario’s face firmly implanted in his brain as he had taken a fistful of the random guy’s hair and ejaculated into his mouth.

  
His sexuality was really the least of his worries but as he closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around his cock, he didn’t really give his other more pressing, important problems any more thought. He panted as he stroked his cock furiously hard, one hand against the tiled wall. He groaned louder as he felt himself throb in his hand. Marco was dangerously close to the edge. Just one more…

  
“Don’t come without me.” In shock, Marco dropped his hand, leaving his heavy, angrily red cock dangling between his thighs. In his blissfully hazy state of jacking off, he hadn’t noticed Mario open the shower door and step in behind his until his warm, wet arms had snaked their way around his waist, pulling him back to his chest. With a sharp intake of breath, Marco leaned his head to the side encouraging Mario’s soft lips upon his skin.

  
“Mario…”

  
“Shush. Let me take control for once.” Marco was about to protest when Mario pushed down on the top of his back, making him bend over while Mario slid a single finger all the way inside his ass, so deliciously slowly. Marco wanted to resist – this was just a step too far – but it didn’t feel bad. It didn’t feel particularly great either. Well, not until-

“Fuck!” Marco cried out as Mario curled his finger, the pad finding an intense spot of ridiculous pleasure that made his knees buckle. Was this really what Mario was experiencing when they normally had sex? Marco had always assumed that he had had the upper hand, the most pleasure. Now, as he struggled to stand, he wasn’t too sure.

Marco could feel every needle of water pierce him as his skin spiked at the height of sensitivity. Absentmindedly, Marco listened as he heard the vaguely familiar sound of a bottle being popped open and he cried out with abandon as Mario slid two slick fingers inside him slowly. He immediately clenched at the invasion. A single finger was one thing, but two? This was getting out of hand. This was too much. This was too... _gay_.

“Hey, it’s alright. Relax,” Mario murmured and he stroked Marco’s back soothingly as he leaned over and took one of his hands, squeezing reassuringly. Marco whimpered with his stomach in knots as he rode the simultaneous waves of guilty reluctance and pleasure. His cock was rock hard and the sheer rush every time Mario hit the tight bundle of nerves deep inside him was making his head spin. His thoughts were incoherent and just culminated in-

“Fuck me!” Marco cried out, hardly believing the words were coming out of his mouth. He growled as Mario dropped his fingers out and swallowed, tense with anticipation as Mario kissed up from his neck and to his jawbone. Marco turned his head and trembled as he returned Mario’s slow, deep kiss to his lips. Mario turned Marco around and pressed their wet bodies together as they embraced, kissing passionately, wildly under the free flowing water. Marco whimpered as Mario ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his erection firmly against his own.

“I love you. I love you so much,” Mario whispered against Marco’s lips, “I’m going to show you how much,” With a soft grin, Mario kissed Marco one last time and, in a daze, Marco let him turn off the shower and lead him out of the bathroom. With his heart in his mouth, they walked into the bedroom and Marco allowed himself to be picked up and lain down on the already messed up sheets. For a moment Marco questioned if he was really as sober as he thought he was; his head was spinning so fast that he was having trouble believing he hadn’t had at least a dozen triple vodka shots.

Mario gripped Marco’s thighs and spread his legs wide, eliciting a thick groan from him when he leaned over him and pushed the head of his thick cock against him. Marco felt as if his head was going to fall off and his heart was going to burst out of his chest. It was too much. It was just too-

“Oh!” Was all Marco could get out as Mario pushed his thick cock all the way, deep inside him. He was slow. Agonisingly slow. And it hurt bad. But still Marco couldn’t help but groan as he felt the entire length, the entire girth. Every single bump, ridge and vein that slipped inside him made him clench the sheets tighter and tighter. There was nothing, nothing as intensely uncomfortable yet so satisfyingly relieving. Mario’s cock was bigger than his own and he appreciated every last inch of it.

“I love you,” Mario whimpered, his face already bright red and twisted into the very image of pleasure. Marco found himself wanting to return the sentiment but he also found himself unable to form words.

He took a brief moment to acknowledge Mario’s face. The beautifully familiar chubby face was screwed up into a harsh recognition of the tight pleasure surrounding him. He was crying out, panting with desire and his pants only became more feverish as his hips went wild, slamming himself deep inside Marco.

Every thrust was met with a pathetic cry born out of helplessness.

The head of Mario’s cock slid harshly yet so incredibly satisfyingly over his prostate with every push. Mario grabbed Marco’s legs and wrapped them around his waist as he leaned down to kiss his neck and wrapped his hand firmly around his aching cock.

“Need…to…” Marco choked out but Mario silenced up with a desperate kiss.

“Say you love me!” Mario demanded as he gave Marco a violent thrust, making him shriek.

“M-Mario…” Marco whispered, breathless.

“Say it!” Mario shouted and started stroking his cock harshly. Marco couldn’t take it anymore; this was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He usually saw stars but this was the first time he saw a blinding light.

“I fucking love you!” Marco screamed as he shot his load all over their bodies.

Marco was so consumed with the ridiculous pleasure he was feeling that it took him a moment to realise the unfamiliar sensation happening deep inside him. And then he looked up to see Mario’s blissed out face.

Then it dawned on him. Just as Mario slipped out of him.

“Did…did you just cum inside me?” Marco whispered, just as the atmosphere lost its ferocious sense of desperation. Still panting, Mario hovered above him, his arms shaking as they struggled to keep him up.

“Wha…?” Mario muttered, paying no attention but, with his teeth gritted, Marco grabbed his shoulders and roughly pushed him off from on top of him.

“Did you just cum inside of me?” Marco asked indignantly through gritted teeth while he stared up at the ceiling. Mario rolled onto his side and frowned, all the while still in a dopey daze.

“Yeah, of course, I-”

“You fucking bastard,” Marco growled.

“What?”

And Marco was just about to scream a response when they both heard an almighty crash from the hotel corridor.


	12. Pay Cheque

After Thiago had disappeared, one might expect all of the men on both the German and Spanish team to be relentlessly concerned with nothing filling their minds but hoping for Thiago’s safe return. Unfortunately for Thiago, life goes on and gets in the way. Philipp, while initially worried sick about his secret lover, received a phone call in the middle of training from his wife where she told him that their daughter was currently bedridden with the flu. Toni had received news from his agent that both Manchester United and Real Madrid were planning on bidding for him during the next transfer window. And Bastian had discovered a mole just above his navel that he was rather concerned about.

Mario and Marco weren’t the only ones with other concerns. Of course, that didn’t occur to Marco.

“Just come back to bed!” Marco whined as Mario jumped out of bed as soon as they heard a ridiculous crash from outside the hotel door. But Mario pulled on a pair of jeans and ran straight out the door. With a roll of his eyes, Marco also tried to roll out of bed, wincing as he put his weight on his ass while he did so.

“Marco!” Mario called, his voice tinged with urgency. Marco, with a groan, hauled himself up out of bed and wandered sleepily to the door where Mario was standing with a hand over his mouth, Toni was standing with two trays of snacks all over the floor in front of him and Thiago was lying, passed out at the two men’s feet.

“What the fuck is going on?” Marco demanded but both Toni and Mario just shook their heads.

“I just came up from the bar downstairs with some food for the guys and I found him just…passed out outside your door!” Mario and Toni began chattering excitedly yet nervously amongst themselves but Marco simply zoned out for a moment as he stared at Thiago’s unconscious body.

“I…uh…need a drink.” Marco muttered, hurrying back inside, though he was fairly certain that neither of them paid him any mind at all. With shaking legs, Marco stumbled into the kitchen and sat at the small dining table, holding his head in his hands.

This was not right. How on Earth did Thiago even make it back to the hotel?

“Marco! We need your help!” Mario called and Marco sighed with frustration. Two grown men who work as professional athletes couldn’t move a rather slender man by themselves? Still, he got himself back up and trudged back out to the corridor, even though his legs were still shaking.

“What?” He demanded and the two men looked at him rather sheepishly.

“We…uh…don’t want to touch him,” Toni muttered as all three of them drifted their gaze down to Thiago. Who was still very much unconscious.

“And that is because…?”

“ _Fingerprints!_ ” Mario hissed, earning himself a haughty stare of derision from Marco.

“Are you guys serious? Apart from the obvious forensic errors your tiny minds are making, you are both idiots. Number one, he’s not dead so this isn’t a fucking _murder_ case which leads onto number two – that he will be able to tell us who, if anyone, was responsible for this…state he’s in.”

“Oh…” Mario mumbled.

“So when you two have grown a brain cell between you, move him into Toni’s room!” Marco urged and both Mario and Toni nodded, immediately setting to work, grabbed Thiago and dragged the dead weight into Toni’s room. Marco turned on his heel and headed back into Mario’s room, “And for the record, when have you ever heard of the police dusting a live body for fingerprints?” He muttered, shaking his head before slamming the door shut behind him.

Marco’s heart was racing as he paced across the kitchen, trying to get the situation straight in his head. There were so many questions.

Why was he passed out? How long had he been lying there? How did he get there in the first place?

Marco grabbed his phone and quickly dialled a number he was getting less and less fond of.

“We have a problem. It’s Thiago. Come to my room – I’ll see you there in ten minutes.” Marco hung up the phone and was just racing out the door when Mario burst through it.

“We’ve put him in Toni’s bed but he’s still passed out,” Mario’s voice was so small that Marco couldn’t help but sigh and open his arms, swallowing as Mario’s warm body pressed against his own and they embraced each other affectionately. Marco rubbed his back and ran his fingers through Mario’s floppy hair.

“He’s going to be fine,” Marco tried to soothe but his heart tightened as he felt Mario cling to him and start shaking as he began sobbing.

“How do you know that? We have no idea where he’s been or what he’s been doing!”

“Hey,” Marco took a step back and held Mario’s face in his hands, forcing them to look each other in the eye, “He looked fine, didn’t he? No bruises, no track marks, nothing! He probably just went on a huge bender and is now extremely drunk and has passed out in the hallway.” Mario nodded shakily.

“Yeah…yeah I guess you’re right.” Mario murmured, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

“Right, I’m going back to my room to have a shower and get some things. I’ll be back in an hour or so and then we’ll go to the gym, yeah?” Mario nodded at Marco and smiled.

“Sure,” They kissed one last time and Marco left, leaving Mario confused. Hadn’t Marco just had a shower?

Jerome was already outside Marco’s room by the time he got there and the two men shared a grimace. Without exchanging a word, Marco let them into his room and they went through to the kitchen, sitting at the small table. Marco went to the fridge and pulled out a beer for both of them.

“It’s 11AM,” Jerome pointed out but Marco just shrugged and took a long drink.

“And Thiago is passed out in Toni’s bed when he was supposed to be in a motel in an area of Eastern Berlin that’s so filthy it’s practically still in the Soviet Union!”

“Can’t argue with that reasoning.” Jerome shrugged and took a swig of his own drink, “So. How long do you reckon we have until he wakes up?”

“Well, if he’s just pissed…probably an hour or two. If he’s drugged, we could have forever.”

“Oh don’t be a fucking idiot. We locked him in a motel room for 2 days with only two sandwiches and a packet of doughnuts. He probably just broke out of the room and by the time he got here, he passed out from exhaustion,” Jerome peered at Marco looking for confirmation of his theory, “The question isn’t why he’s passed out, it’s what will happen once he wakes up. And what to say to everyone else in the meantime. Because you know that Philipp will be sniffing around here with questions once he hears Thiago has been found.”

“Thiago won’t say anything that implicates us. You know he wouldn’t dare,” Marco asserted, confident as he took a long drink but Jerome just gave him a quizzical look.

“Wouldn’t he? You might not realise this but Thiago is ridiculously in love with Philipp and if you think that he won’t tell him what happened then you’re deluded.”

“So what the Hell are we supposed to do?” Marco shouted, mostly out of frustration.

“I’ll tell you what we are going to do. We are going to tell Löw that Thiago has turned up and then we are going to get changed and go to training. That’s it. Ok?” Jerome glared at Marco, an eyebrow raised. Marco sighed, gritting his teeth.

“Guess I don’t have a choice.” Marco stood abruptly and stormed towards the front door.

“Quit acting like you’re my stooge. If this whole situation is anyone’s fault, it’s _yours_! If you had just stuck to the original plan-”

“The original plan was ridiculous!” Marco interrupted, “There was no way we would get away with it!” Marco’s outburst was met by a cold laugh.

“Oh yeah because we’re totally getting away with this new, fool proof plan, aren’t we?”

“Maybe if you didn’t insist on kidnapping our captain’s lover, things wouldn’t be nearly as fucked up!”

“You know, all this shit is starting not to be worth that two million euros.”

One might expect after Thiago disappeared for the men who were responsible for his disappearance to feel either guilt about what they did or spend every waking moment plotting how to get away with it. But the truth was that Thiago’s disappearance was part of a bigger picture – one that was far bigger than the mere issue of Thiago’s disappearance. To Marco and Jerome, Thiago was merely collateral damage. The incident was simply part of a game that involved a significant pay cheque. And as far as Marco was concerned, it was a pay cheque that Mario did not need to know the origins of. The sad truth was that if he did, Marco would lose the only stable thing in his life and as much as he hated to admit it – he needed Mario. Nearly as much as Mario needed him.


	13. Liar

“What do you think is wrong with him?” Toni muttered and Mario couldn’t think of any plausible answer so he just shrugged his shoulders. They had been sitting beside the bed upon which Thiago was lying for nearly an hour, just staring at him and making small talk.

“So are you back with Marco now then?” Toni asked and again Mario shrugged, again because he didn’t know the answer despite the fact that he had been contemplating the question ever since he had arrived in Berlin and seen Marco again, “But you want to be, right?”

“Yes. I still love him. And I know how ridiculous that sounds but I swear he loves me too,” Mario couldn’t help but wince as he saw Toni try to scoff quietly out of the corner of his eye, “I know it sounds ridiculous, ok? But…I was in trouble yesterday and he helped me. If he’s as much of a jerk as everyone thinks then he wouldn’t have done what he did for me.” Mario held his head in his hands and sighed, feeling Toni’s curious eyes upon him.

“Do I really have to ask? What happened?” Mario looked up to see Toni staring at him doubtfully.

“I don’t want to go into it. All that has to be said is that I got into a really difficult situation and Marco…sort of saved me.” After Mario spoke, there was a pause while they both looked up at Thiago, vainly trying to see if there was any change. Of course, there wasn’t; he just continued to breathe steadily as if he was in a deep sleep.

“Look, I know this is none of my business and you can tell me to fuck off if you like but…was this ‘difficult situation’ by any chance have something to do with Marco’s cocaine?” Mario just gaped at Toni, not knowing what to say.

“You…you know?” Mario choked out as Toni just shrugged.

“Not really. I just overheard him the other night when Marco was outside talking to Jerome,” Toni said nonchalantly but Mario frowned.

“Hang on, what? He talked to Jerome? Here in Berlin?” For the first time since they moved Thiago onto the bed, both Mario and Toni took their eyes off him to peer at each other confused.

“Yeah, the other night. Like, two or three in the morning. I couldn’t sleep so went outside for some fresh air and I overheard them talking. All I really heard was that Marco’s got some cocaine and Jerome wanted it.” Toni stopped as he saw the confused look upon Mario’s face.

"No, that can't be right. Marco was with me that night. I went to my room in the early evening and he was in my room waiting for me. We fell asleep just before midnight and then he was woken up by you saying that Thiago had disappeared." Mario watched as Toni bit his lip thoughtfully.

"He must have gone out while you were sleeping. I know what I saw, Mario and I saw him and Jerome talking about how Marco got the cocaine when he went on that trip to Vienna." When Toni finished talking, Mario grinned triumphantly. 

"See? What has cocaine got to do with Marco going to Vienna? He could have got cocaine here, why would he go to Vienna to get it? I think you were just dreaming.”

“What’s the big deal?” Toni frowned, “You already knew he had cocaine, what difference does it make if Jerome knew about it?”

“The _difference_ is that Marco was with me all night and he wouldn’t have left just to go and talk to Jerome about a fucking bag of cocaine!” Surprised at Mario’s irritation, Toni held up his hands in defeat.

“Ok…so isn’t the real question _why_ Marco left you in the middle of the night to talk to Jerome about cocaine? And why he went all the way to Vienna just to get some coke. _And_ why he even has cocaine in the first place, it’s not like he actually takes it.” Mario broke eye contact with Toni and stood up, going to leave the room.

“It’s a bit strange that you didn’t stick around to hear the answers to all of your little questions, isn’t it?” And with that, Mario turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door like a petulant teenager behind him.

Mario rushed back to his room and fell down onto the small sofa in the lounge area. He thought for a moment about what Toni had said. Could Marco have snuck out that night while he was asleep? It was certainly possible. Mario knew he had always been a rather deep sleeper, especially when Marco was beside him in bed so it wasn’t as if it was a crazy suggestion.

Just as Mario got deep into thought, Marco came in.

“Do you still want to go to the gym? Training is off until tomorrow so I thought we could hit the treadmill and the weights,” Marco offered Mario his hand and pulled him up into a loose embrace, “And then maybe I could take you out for dinner? I want to spend as much time as possible with you before we both have to go back,” Marco took a hand and cupped Mario’s cheek, noting the slightly forlorn look on his face.

“I don’t feel like it.” Mario hung his head as he spoke.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Marco asked by Mario just shrugged, avoiding making eye contact.

“If training isn’t on then I think I’m just going to chill.” Marco couldn’t help but grin when Mario spoke.

“Yeah? As in…chill in bed?”

“As in binge watching Breaking Bad and breaking into a tub of Haagen Dazs.” Mario watched as Marco’s face fell while he spoke.

“So…is it the romantic dinner or me working out half naked that’s putting you off?” Marco asked, an eyebrow raised while Mario sighed and silently left the room, heading for the bathroom, “Mario?” Marco called after him, confused, “Mario! Mario, what’s wrong?” Mario paused at the door to the bathroom and turned slightly.

“You know the first night we spent here in Berlin?” Mario asked and Marco frowned slightly, confused.

“Yeah?”

“I have this weird half memory that you left in the middle of the night,” Mario murmured, seeing the fear flash in Marco’s eyes.

“What?”

“It just felt real so I’m wondering if it was a crazy vivid dream or if you did…that’s all. No big deal...just curious.”

“No. Of course I didn’t leave you, I love you.”

“Not even to go to the bathroom?”

“No.” Mario nodded in acknowledgement of Marco’s response and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

“Liar.”


	14. Lost

**_ Kronen Zeitung _ **

**_BAYERN CAPTAIN IN EXPLOSIVE GAY AFFAIR  
_ ** _Philipp_ _Lahm in homosexual love affair with_ _Thiago Alcântara that will tear his marriage apart_

_Today, Kronen Zeitung can reveal that Bayern Munich Captain Philipp Lahm has been engaged in a homosexual relationship with fellow teammate Thiago Alcântara. We can exclusively reveal that over the course of the past several months, the pair have engaged in countless sordid trysts, “romantic” getaways to intimate ski lodges and betrayed Lahm’s wife in an extraordinary way._

_Despite not only having a wife but a child as well, Lahm has defied both responsibilities to indulge in a taboo relationship. According to a reliable inside source, Lahm “found solace in Thiago while experiencing marital difficulties” and seduced him while he was going through an “emotional time” with his family – it was widely reported several months ago that Thiago’s father had died suddenly, potentially sparking confusion for the young Bayern midfielder._

_The footballing world is notorious for being intensely homophobic but this is the second time in less than a year that the Bundesliga has faced a gay scandal. This current story is reminiscent of the alleged relationship between Borussia Dortmund’s Marco Reus and Bayern Munich’s Mario Götze. That story was exposed by Götze’s ex-girlfriend Ann-Kathrin Brömmel and vehemently denied by both parties._

_However, unlike Reus and Götze, Lahm and_ _Alcântara have been spotted together in romantic situations on numerous occasions. The most prominent of these being in a spa resort in the Black Forest where the pair checked into the same room and were seen getting close in the onsite restaurant, as well as holding hands._

_The question now is how this will affect Bayern Munich’s performance in this current Bundesliga season and, more importantly, how it will affect one of the most high profile marriages in Germany today._

_Representatives for Bayern Munich, Philipp Lahm and Thiago Alcântara have not been contacted for comment prior to publication._

 

Jerome threw his copy of Kronen Zeitung at Marco, glaring at him.

“You fucking cunt. How much did you get paid for this?”

“Oh chill out, I cut you a cheque.” Marco reached into his jacket pocket and passed a cheque across the table to Jerome, who promptly snatched it away.

“This is half?”

“Yes.” At Marco’s confirmation, Jerome gave a low whistle.

“They paid you four hundred thousand Euros for that story?”

“You’re surprised?” Marco asked and Jerome shrugged.

“Considering what they paid you last time, I guess not. Still…this is crazy. Two stories and we’ve earnt over a million Euros each already! For doing fuck all!” Jerome exclaimed while Marco snorted, “What?”

“I smuggled cocaine across the border. You call that fuck all?”

“Oh shut up. You got on a train from Vienna to Dortmund. No passport control, no security, no big deal.”

Marco was sitting with Jerome at the hotel bar, half heartedly eating breakfast while looking over that day’s edition of Kronen Zeitung that had arrived from Austria overnight. The newspaper had broken the story of Philipp’s affair with Thiago, much to Marco’s surprise. He hadn’t expected the story to break until the national team had left Berlin and he was back in Dortmund – away from both Philipp and Thiago. Marco had only passed the story along to the Austrian newspaper two days earlier and they had assured him that the story probably wouldn’t be published for at least a week to give them time to secure additional information and possibly photographs too. How on Earth they had managed to find photos of Philipp and Thiago holding hands in just two days, Marco had no idea. He couldn’t say he really cared, though. He and Jerome were getting four hundred thousand Euros each and that was more than worth the slight inconvenience of being around the two men while their sordid affair was exposed in the press.

“Right, here’s the plan. We go around as normal, ok? We are finally going to have a decent day’s training today and we need it, especially with the Spanish team training every day since we arrived here. Philipp probably won’t be there so we won’t have to worry about that but if he does turn up – you do not mention it, understand? You know nothing. You are deaf, dumb and blind. Got it, Reus?” Marco shrugged at Jerome and stood up.

“Whatever. I’ll see you at training.” Marco left Jerome’s room and headed back upstairs, intending to get Mario so they could go to training together. Marco was absolutely exhausted, getting out of breath just briskly walking up the few flights of stairs. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly ever since he arrived in Berlin. The past few days had just been a messed up whirlwind of secrets, lies and ridiculous drama made even worse by Mario getting fucked up on his cocaine. He was able to get through the day just fine but when it got dark outside and he tried to settle down in bed, all he could think about was what he had done. He had fucked with Philipp and Thiago on a truly catastrophic scale but worse than that, he had capitalised on Mario’s misery and nearly been the reason his love had been put in hospital.

Although Marco had always prided himself on having a slight lack of conscience, even he was having trouble living with himself at that moment.

Marco knocked on Mario’s hotel room door which was quickly opened.

“Hey, I-” But Mario was cut off by a tight embrace which caught him off guard. He was tempted to laugh but instead he wrapped his own arms around Marco’s slighter frame and held him just as tightly. Marco loosened his grip slightly to give Mario a long, soft and leisurely kiss.

“You know I love you, don’t you? I know I don’t say it very often or show it because you know it’s difficult for me but I hope you know how much you mean to me and how much I don’t want to hurt you.” Marco’s heart tightened as he saw Mario’s sweet face break out into a wide smile, biting his lip.

“Hey, what’s brought on all of this?”

“I just want you to remember,” Marco took one of Mario’s hands between both of his, “that whatever happens, I never wanted to hurt you. I’m just selfish, ok?” Mario frowned slightly, confused but just nodded.

“We should, uh, go to training.” They shared one more small kiss before Marco hesitantly took Mario’s hand in his and they walked down to the hotel reception where Toni, Bastian and Jerome were already waiting.

Mario, Toni and Bastian started talking amongst themselves, laughing and joking while Marco and Jerome remained quiet. They stared at each other, sending each other silent messages. Marco briefly wondered if the other men knew that Philipp and Thiago’s affair had been revealed in Kronen Zeitung but the tone of their conversation and the look on Jerome’s face told him that they didn’t. Not yet, anyway.

“We should go,” Jerome muttered after five minutes had passed.

“But Philipp isn’t even here yet.” Toni protested.

“Löw told us to be there at nine and it’s quarter to now. You guys know he’s a stickler for punctuality.” Jerome pointed out and Marco nodded.

“Yeah and I could do without an extra ten laps around the pitch,” Marco pitched in and Mario, Toni and Bastian relented. As they made the short walk over to the training ground, Mario turned to Marco. He offered his hand and Marco could see the pride and elation in Mario’s face as he took it in his own and squeezed it, proudly holding it even when they received a stinking look from Jerome and shocked ones from Toni and Bastian. Shocked because they were being so open; this was a training session open to the public, after all.

Mario knew he was lost again. Lost in Marco – lost in his eyes, his lips, his body, his mind and his love.


	15. How Could You?

It was match day and no one on the Germany national team was confident. They had only had one full training session when they should have had five, their captain had flown back to Munich in a desperate bid to save his marriage and no one was really in the spirit of the game. Their only saving grace was the fact that the match was only a friendly game and it wouldn’t be embarrassing to lose to Spain.

The team were in their changing room, talking and laughing amongst themselves while they waited for the call to head out into the tunnel ready for the start of the game. While the rest of the team were messing around filming each other and giving each other wedgies, Mario and Marco were sitting together in the corner. Marco’s confident declaration of love the day before and brought them together properly and Mario was finally convinced that Marco’s heart belonged to him. So he ignored the cat calls and whistles and had nestled himself on Marco’s lap, cuddling up to him for some comfort before they went out onto the pitch for the most unprepared game of his life.

“I’ll be so glad to get this game out of the way but I hate that I’ll have to let you go tomorrow. I’m not ready to say goodbye to you again.” Mario pouted as Marco rubbed his back.

“Hey, we’ll see each other again soon. We both have days off _and_ Bayern are playing against us in a few weeks. You know I can’t leave you alone.”

“Neuer! Reus!” Joachim bellowed while making a gesture towards him. Mario reluctantly got up off of Marco and watched as Marco and Manuel followed Joachim into the small office adjacent to the changing rooms.

“Sit.” Joachim instructed the men as he shut the door and took a seat in front of them.

“Neuer, you’ll be Captain today. Reus, Vice-Captain.”

“Yes, Coach.” Manuel asserted as Joachim sighed.

“I don’t know what’s been going on this week. First Götze is a killer and now Lahm is gay? It’s clear to me that this team is not in the best shape but that does not give you the excuse to not play to the best of your abilities. Yes, this game is a friendly but just because it isn’t part of a tournament does not mean that it isn’t important. The World Cup is next year and _every_ game, friendly or not, is preparation. Spain won the World Cup last time so this match is invaluable to our preparation. They aren’t in great shape either at the moment. There are injuries, Thiago is in the hospital and the line up they have fielded for today isn’t great. So _no excuses_. I want a win today, understand?” Marco nodded his head slowly and stood up, leaving the office in a daze to join his teammates.

“Are you ok?” Marco turned his head slightly to see Mario standing beside him, looking at him concerned.

“Thiago’s in hospital.”

“ _What_?”

“I need to speak to Jerome.”

“But why-”

“In a minute.” Marco cut Mario off and pushed past him to get to Jerome, who was sitting on his bench and looking up at him expectantly. They were out of ear shot of the rest of the team so Marco sat beside him and spoke in a low voice.

“Thiago’s in hospital. What are we going to do?” Marco saw a wave of fear wash over Jerome’s face for a second but he soon composed himself.

“Nothing. What are we supposed to do? Look, he doesn’t know that their affair has been exposed and no one is likely to tell him while he’s in hospital, either. I know it’s not fucking ideal or whatever but to be honest, hospital is probably the best place we could hope him to be right now. At least he can’t break our necks.”

“And what about when he gets out of hospital and he finds out the story has been leaked? He _knows_ it was us!” Marco felt a cold sweat come over him but Jerome just leaned back and crossed his arms.

“No he doesn’t. He knows it was _you_. I might have told you the details of their relationship, but I never told you to sell the story. I never told you to sell Mario’s story either,” Jerome asserted, standing up while Marco just gaped at him, “This is on you, Reus. This is your mess. You got yourself into it, now you get yourself out. I ain’t covering for you anymore.”

The match that day passed in a blur for Marco. He played fine but he was on auto pilot for the whole ninety minutes. He passed the ball dutifully to his teammates and did exactly what he was supposed to throughout the whole game. He vaguely realised Thomas scoring a goal just before half time was called and he walked off the pitch in a daze, back to the changing rooms. He walked with shaky legs to the bench and sat down, staring at the rest of the team as they high fived and congratulated each other on being one-nil up.

With a grin on his face, Mario fell down beside him and took his hand.

“Are you ok? Cheer up, we’re actually winning!”

“I’ve done something bad, Mario,” Marco murmured, feeling Mario frown at him as he spoke.

“What? What are you talking about?” Marco clutched Mario’s hand with both of his own and looked at him straight in the eye.

“You have to promise me that you won’t hate me.” Mario started to grin but his face fell when he registered the genuine plea in Marco’s voice.

“Marco, you’re scaring me.”

“Just promise me!” Marco insisted impatiently and Mario reluctantly nodded.

“Ok, ok, I promise that I won’t hate you. Now what’s going on?”

“Come here,” Marco grabbed Mario’s hand and stood up, dragging him into the locker room, thankful that the rest of the team didn’t seem to notice. Marco turned the latch on the door, locking them in and sighed, knowing that this was the time he had to come clean.

“It was me.” Marco stood before Mario and looked him in the eye. But Mario just frowned.

“What was you?”

“I told the _Kronen Zeitung_ about Philipp and Thiago.” For a moment, Mario just stared at Marco with his mouth open, aghast.

“You did _what_?”

“I know, I know it was bad but what they offered me for it blinded me and I-”

“Woah, wait a minute!” Mario cut Marco off, narrowing his eyes, “You made _money_ off it? Do you have _any_ idea what this is going to do to Philipp’s marriage? And to Thiago? They will get crucified in the press for this!”

“I’m _sorry_! It was stupid, ok?”

“Stupid? How fucking selfish do you have to be to do that to them? And hypocritical! Remember what it was like when Ann outed our relationship? Well it’s going to be a _thousand_ times worse for them!” Marco’s heart sank as Mario scowled at him and shook his head, “You’re a sick son of a bitch.” With tears in his eyes, Marco watched as Mario unlocked the door.

“Mario, please, I-”

“Fuck you, Marco,” Mario spat out before storming back into the changing rooms. Stunned, Marco took a minute to gain his composure before leaving the locker room just in time to see Löw give his half time speech. Not that he really paid any attention. He stared at Mario, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to resist looking back just so Marco could see in his eyes if they were going to be ok or not.

“Reus!” Marco’s head snapped up at the holler of his name, “Did you even hear what I said?” Marco’s eyes widened slightly with alarm.

“No, Coach.”

“Your head was not in the game, Reus. I told you before the game to keep focused but you seem to be intent on having your head in the clouds. So you’re out.”

“ _What_?”

“Out!” Marco was about to protest further but Löw moved on to other matters, something about changing their formation. So Marco simply grabbed his bag and left the changing room, storming out to the car park while ignoring all of the eyes of his teammates on him. He knew he was supposed to stay and watch the rest of the match from the stands but there was no way he was going to sit there like a fucking cock and watch it as if he actually gave a shit.

Marco got to his car and with gritted teeth, he kicked his tyre with frustration. He was disgusted he had been cut from the team. Was that really necessary? Whoever they were going to put up instead of him was going to be some newcomer – probably one who hadn’t even appeared in a national match before. And Marco knew that even on a bad day, he was better that anyone that could have replaced him with. That fucked him off more than anything else. He wasn’t too worried about Mario – he knew he would probably receive a text message that evening from him proclaiming his forgiveness.

So Marco begrudgingly called for a taxi and headed to the hotel.

As soon as he shut his hotel room door, Marco stripped off all of his clothes and headed straight for the bathroom. He ran a hot bath and didn’t even bother to wait for it to fill before getting in, leaving the faucets running. He closed his eyes and sighed, willing away the headache he was developing. He hoped that he was right and that Mario would forgive him quickly. After all, it wasn’t as if Mario was close to either Philipp or Thiago so it would be pretty irrational of him to hold a grudge.

It felt as if he was awoken just as he drifted off to sleep.

“Mario?” Marco blinked and sat up as the blurry image of Mario came slowly into focus, his eyes bleary from the unexpected nap.

“Thiago’s recovered, he was discharged from hospital about an hour ago and is so humiliated by your story that he is refusing to return and has gone straight back to Munich. I imagine Philipp’s marriage is falling apart as we speak and I suspect you really don’t give a fuck since you got a rather nice pay day out of their misery.” With an irritated sigh, Marco got up and stepped out of the bath, wrapping one of the hotel’s fluffy towels around his waist.

“Why are you acting like _I’m_ the bad guy here? _Philipp_ is the one who has a wife and child and still chose to have a fucking gay affair with his teammate!” Marco cried out, indignant while Mario just looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh I see. So _you_ are actually the moral one, are you? What about Thiago? What about the shit he’s going to get for this?”

“Well how about the fact he’s been willingly fucking a man he knows is married and has a child?” Mario couldn’t help but laugh at Marco, genuinely quite stunned by what he was saying.

“You can’t help who you fall in love with, Marco. You should know that better than anyone.” Mario bit out, causing Mario to shake his head.

“It’s not the same thing. Neither you or I had a wife or child!”

“No, just dispensable girlfriends, right?” Mario barked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Without an answer to give, Marco dropped his towel and grabbed a pair of jeans, pulling them on. Mario followed Marco out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

“Have you told anyone?” Marco asked, muttering and was answered with a laugh behind him.

“You’re asking if I’ve told anyone that my boyfriend is the one who sold away Philipp’s marriage to some tacky Austrian newspaper? No, funnily enough, I haven’t.” Marco sighed at Mario’s comment and fell down, still half asleep, on his bed.

“What do you want from me, Mario? Do you want half of what they paid me?”

“What? No-”

“How about taking the cheque and ripping it up? Go on, the cheque they sent me is in my suitcase. Rip it up! I don’t even give a fuck right now as long as you get off my back.” Marco grumbled and Mario snarled at his nonchalance. So he heeded Marco’s direction and went over to his suitcase which was lying casually on the floor. He unzipped it and flipped it over before rooting through Marco’s clothes, soon finding an envelope that he assumed – correctly – had the aforementioned cheque inside. However, instead of the one slip of paper that he expected, two fell into Mario’s hand.

“Why did they send you two cheques?” Marco’s eyes widened in panic as Mario questioned him.

“W-what?” Marco sat up and watch as Mario looked at the cheques.

“And they’re dated two weeks apart. Jesus Christ, Marco, did you sell _another_ story to them? What did you…” Mario trailed off, staring up at Marco slack-jawed as the realisation dawned on him.

“Mario…”

“You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t. Please tell me it wasn’t you.”

“I’m sorry,” Marco whispered, feeling his chest tighten as he saw Mario’s eyes fill with tears.

“How could you tell them I killed Carolin? _How could you do that to me?”_


	16. Sophia

_One Year Earlier_

“I like wine.” Sophia’s head snapped up as she saw none other than Mario Götze and Marco Reus step into the wine bar. She was currently there with an assistant, unwinding after a long day trying to secure some credible transfer news regarding Mats Hummels and Robert Lewandowski, to no avail. She watched as Marco followed Mario to the back of the bar and into a booth, away from the rest of the patrons and, unfortunately, away from her and her line of vision. The atmosphere of the bar was specifically designed to be romantic with the dim lighting, the scented candles and soft music. Sophia had purposely taken her gorgeous new assistant there with the view to getting him firmly in her bed.

So Sophia couldn’t help but be curious as to what on Earth Mario Götze and Marco Reus were doing there.

“You,” She said pointedly towards Leon, her assistant, “stay here. This might not be a completely wasted trip.” Before Leon could ask what was going on, Sophia had already gotten up and rushed over to the bar where she cornered one of the waitresses.

“I have one hundred Euros for you here,” She said quietly, “Let me be a waitress for the night.” The waitress peered at her, confused.

“What?”

“Ok, ok,” Sophia dug into her pocket and pulled out some more notes, “How about two hundred?” With a bored shrug, the girl handed over her apron and small notebook and pen.

“Whatever. Deal with the tables at the back. Any questions, ask the barman. You’re just lucky that there isn’t a manager in tonight.” Still with a confused look, the girl turned on her heel and left Sophia feeling rather fortunate at how easy it had been. Working quickly, Sophia tied the apron around her waist, grabbed two menus and strode over to the cosy booth occupied by Mario and Marco.

“Hello, my name is Sophia and I will be your personal waitress tonight,” She pitched her voice to be soft and calming to match the music and surprised herself at how professional she sounded, “Here is the wine menu,” She handed the two of them one of the leather backed menus and they smiled appreciatively up at her, “Would you like to start with a complementary glass of Champagne while you peruse?” Marco had a somewhat bewildered look on his face while she spoke and merely gave her a nod.

“Great! I’ll be back in just a moment.” Sophia sauntered off and grabbed an open bottle of Champagne from behind the bar. She took two glasses and brought them to the booth besides the one occupied by Marco and Mario so that they couldn’t see each other but Sophia was able to hear what they were saying.

“Mario?” Her ears pricked up at the sound of Marco’s voice.

“Yes?” She heard Mario replied and there was a pause

“Was this…is this supposed to be a date?” Sophia’s eyes widened with excitement at Marco’s question.

“What makes you think that?” Sophia grinned as she heard Mario’s response – there was no denial!

“Are you kidding? I took Carolin to the Eiffel Tower last Valentine’s Day and it wasn’t as romantic as this!”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous.” Sophia rolled her eyes and sighed at the lack of confirmation, quickly tuning out of the conversation to pour them both a glass of wine before taking it over to them.

“Right, Gentlemen, what can I get you?”

“A bottle of Ghost Horse, please.” Sophia grinned at Mario’s order. Ghost Horse was one of the most expensive bottles on the menu – one only ordered a bottle that expensive in order to impress.

“Very good, Sir. I will be just a moment.” Sophia took their menus and made her way back to the bar. She consciously waited a few moments to let the pair get back into developed conversation before heading back over to the booth next to theirs again.

“You thought I was gay!”

“So I made a mistake about your sexuality. Who cares? Even when I thought you were gay, all I did was invite you to a male strip club.”

“But I thought-”

“Yes, Marco, I know what you _thought_. But you wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if I’d invited you to a female strip club. And you haven’t given a second thought to the fact that I have a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend that you’re only with for your image!” Sophia couldn’t help but smirk – no one in the media liked Ann-Kathrin; just a spoiled little madam who always dated the latest heartthrob with the biggest bank balance.

“Can we just end this conversation? You’re not gay and we are both in relationships so this is moo!” Sophia was rather disappointed when Mario asserted that Marco wasn’t gay – blowing her little theory that they may be having an affair out of the water. However, all of the emphasis had been on _Marco_ not being interested in men. It had been very much implied that Mario certainly _was_. Knowing she had spent way too much time listening in to their conversation, Sophia got up and grabbed the bottle and both of the glasses, going back to their table.

“Yep, ok then. It’s moo.” Sophia had to stop herself from letting out a little laugh and instead busied herself with popping the cork of the bottle and presenting it to Mario as she had seen waiters do to her many times before.

“Would Sir like to try the vintage?” Sophia surprised herself by how professional she sounded. But Mario just raised an eyebrow.

“No. Give us the bottle!” Sophia was taken aback by his lack of decorum and just set the bottle down on the table, clueless on how to react.

“Um, yes, Sir. Enjoy!” She flustered before turning on her heel and rushing away, heading of course back to the adjacent booth.

“I wasn’t surprised when Klopp signed you. You played brilliantly for ‘Gladback. I’m not afraid to say I admired you.” Sophia couldn’t help but snigger slightly at Mario’s obvious attempts at subtle flirtation.

“Thank you,” The awkwardness in Marco’s voice was more than evident, “I’m not sure I’m really worthy of admiration though…not yet, anyway.”

Sophia kept listening to their conversation but nothing more contained anything of note. It was just a typical male conversation laced with compliments, completely one sided from Mario. So Sophia left the booth after a short while and went back over to the bar, quietly sampling all of the expensive wines. She stared intently at them for the rest of the evening, trying to suss out every little look exchanged between the pair. After a couple of incredibly boring hours watching them talking and laughing, one of the other waitresses told her that the bar was about to close so she printed off Marco and Mario’s bill and brought it over to them, plastering a fake smile upon her face.

“I do apologise gentlemen but the bar is just about to close and I’m afraid I must present you with the bill.” Mario threw down a bunch of notes and stood up on shaky legs, grabbing Marco’s hand for support in a surprisingly intimate move.

With a heavy sigh, Sophia ripped off her apron and headed out of the bar not long after Marco and Mario. At first, all she could see was the two of them sitting on a step, apparently waiting for a taxi. But then, Mario put his arm around Marco’s shoulders and looked up at him in an undeniably romantic way – even from her standpoint it was blatantly obvious that his look was full of happiness, admiration and – dare she think it – love.

She wasted no time in taking a photo of it.

_Two Weeks Earlier_

Marco briefly flicked through the pay-per-view porn before settling on a standard student/teacher film. He didn’t bother to even kick his jeans off as he stroked his cock. He wished he could go out and get a woman to suck it but he had only twenty minutes until Sophia arrived and even he couldn’t work that fast.

It was only when he came that it registered in his head that he had been watching a gay porno.

Marco jumped when he heard a knock at his hotel room door. He quickly slipped his now-soft cock back into his jeans and jumped up off the sofa, heading to the door.

“Hey, Miss Schwarz,” Marco greeted Sophia with a crooked smile and stood aside to let her in. Sophia returned the smile and stepped inside, going through to the lounge area as Marco shut the door.

“Please, call me Sophia,” She said offhandedly and, while he was behind her, Marco took the opportunity to check her out. Slim, round ass, long silky hair…Marco nodded his approval.

“Have a seat,” The two of them sat at the kitchen table and Sophia took out her iPad, “So Jerome told me that you wanted to set up a deal on fixing the game we have against Spain? He wasn’t clear on whether you just wanted us to lose or get a particular score or-”

“I’m not interested in a deal on fixing the match,” Sophia asserted rather nonchalantly as she flicked through on her tablet. Marco looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

“So why are you here?” He asked and she looked up with a small smile.

“Once I saw that _you_ were the one Jerome had sent, I decided to change the deal. Ann-Kathrin Brömmel’s interview that outed you and Mario Götze increased the circulation of BILD newspaper ten fold. My newspaper could really do with that sort of exposure,” As she looked at him, her small smile not disappearing – if anything becoming more smirk-like – Marco felt himself becoming uneasy.

“And?”

“ _And_ I want a story about Mario Götze.”

“Hey, there is no way I’m going to sell you a story about me and Mario, ok? Not going to happen.” But Sophia just shook her head at him.

“No, no. That’s old news, I can’t break that story again. But if you two were involved, you must have something to tell me. An unusual fetish, drunken orgy with a load of prostitutes…? Mario has a large fanbase outside of the football world – especially with teenage girls. He’s the poster boy of the Bundesliga. And that sells. Which is, of course, the most important part.” She chuckled, looking Marco dead in the eye. But he just sighed and scratched the back of his neck in contemplation.

“There’s nothing. And, besides, I…I can’t do that to him. He hasn’t done anything to me.” Marco shook his head and Sophia paused after he spoke for a few moments.

“Hasn’t he? Why don’t you start by telling me exactly why Mario was in hospital in Frankfurt for several weeks?” She asked coyly, that small smile becoming increasingly irritating to Marco, who just laughed.

“It’s not exactly a secret that he was in an accident on the Autobahn.”

“It’s a rather strange coincidence, isn’t it? That Mario was in a car accident on the Autobahn on the same day that an unnamed driver crashed killed Carolin.” Sophia gave Marco a knowing look, that irritating smirk refusing to disappear. Marco’s stomach tightened and his hands started to shake a little as he glared at her through narrowed eyes.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It was Mario who crashed into Carolin’s Cadillac and killed her, wasn’t it?” Sophia said it with such confidence that it took Marco aback. He stood up and stepped away, turning his back to her.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know it’s true, Marco. I know you tried to bury the police report but I’ve got it and I’m going to break the story with or without you. But _with_ you, my company will cut you and Jerome a cheque.” Marco sighed and scratched the back of his neck as he listened to Sophia.

“How much?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand Euros.”

“What?”

“ _Each_. So are you in?” Marco sighed and, internally he deliberated, trying to find some way that he could do this and not be a complete cunt.

“I can’t. It would be the end of us.” Marco shrugged while Sophia rolled her eyes, irritated.

“Marco-”

“No. He would never forgive me. I’m sorry, Sophia but no deal,” He turned back around to face her, “You can leave now.” But Sophia didn’t leave. Instead, she opened up her bag and pulled out what looked like a photograph. She held it out to him and Marco took it.

“What’s this?” Marco frowned as he looked at the photograph of Mario and himself, on a stone step, clearly drunk. Mario’s arm was around him and he was looking at him affectionately. He automatically recognised it as being from the night when he and Mario first kissed – when they were outside the bar they had spent the evening in waiting for a taxi. It was plainly obvious why Sophia had taken this photograph – the look in Mario’s eyes while looking at him was one of a man already in love with the person they’re with.

“You _still_ don’t recognise me?” Marco looked back up and looked at Sophia, properly this time.

“You were the waitress that night!”

“Yes. I overheard most of your conversation and it was blatantly obvious how Mario felt for you.”

“So…what? Unless I come in on this story about Carolin, you’re going to ‘break’ the story of Mario having feelings for me? That’s pathetic and you know it.” But Sophia just smirked at him.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no Marco. I’m going to serialise it.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s really quite simple. Monday’s edition: This picture, accompanied by what I overheard. Tuesday’s edition: An embellishment of Ann-Kathrin’s interview with BILD to illustrate your growing relationship. Wednesday: You taking care of Mario after his… _autobahn_ accident-”

“You don’t have any evidence of that,” Marco interrupted, his eyes narrowing.

“Please, you think I haven’t done my homework? There are more than a few hospital staff from Frankfurt willing to give statements about just how close you two were while he was in there. You were there every day, dressed him, even took him to the bathroom…Do you get the point? Your relationship is really quite obvious once you start to piece everything together. Especially with episodes like that match between Dortmund and Bayern at the beginning of the season.” Marco tried to remain calm while Sophia spoke but with the anger and frustration building inside him, that was getting increasingly difficult.

“You’re a bitch,” He spat out, but it didn’t faze Sophia in the slightest.

“Think about it, Marco. If you help me and break the story about him being involved in Carolin’s accident then the ultimate repercussions are minimal. The public aren’t _unreasonable_ , Marco. They will understand that it wasn’t his fault! He will carry on at Bayern and after a bit of furore, it will be forgotten soon enough. But if you don’t help me, your relationship will be exposed and you can both kiss goodbye to your careers.”

“You’re a bitch,” Marco bit out.

“Are you in?”

_A Few Nights Earlier_

Marco watched Mario in the dim light as he quickly drifted off to sleep; his lips slowly parted and his breathing became shallower with his toned, tanned chest rising and falling softly and steadily. Marco ran his fingers through his longer hair and the back of his hand over his thicker beard and he found that he couldn’t take his eyes off him. He really was beautiful; the soft curve of his cheeks, his long eyelashes and his full lips parted slightly in a pout.

His phone vibrated.

He leaned over out of bed and picked up his jeans, groping around in the pockets quickly, not wanting to wake Mario.

A text.

_I’m outside having a cigarette._

Marco glanced over at Mario and, regrettably, he ever so slowly slipped out of bed, being careful not to wake him. He pulled on his jeans and discarded white shirt before placing a soft kiss on Mario’s forehead and padding quietly out of the room. With a hammering heart, Marco half-ran down the corridor and bypassed waiting for the elevator, rushing down the stairs instead. When he got to the reception, he paused and took a deep breath, swallowing hard before he headed outside.

“How come you weren’t in your room?” Jerome asked as he finished one cigarette and lit up another, offering one to Marco.

“Thanks. I uh…I was with Mario,” Marco muttered and Jerome barked out a joyless laugh.

“So, what, you’re a proper fag now then?”

“Hey, fuck off.”

“Whatever,” Marco stood uncomfortably with Jerome, awkwardly watching him smoke as he dragged on his own, “So how was Vienna?”

“Fine.”

“Fine? What about Sophia?” Jerome demanded, glaring at him while Marco rolled his eyes.

“I think I saw her for like thirty seconds when I signed the contract and then she came to my room in the evening.”

“I swear, Reus, if you fucked her-”

“I didn’t fuck her,” Marco growled before barking out a laugh, “Believe me, I am not the one she wants.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jerome narrowed his eyes at Marco; he didn’t trust him and it was blatantly obvious.

“She wants Mario,” Marco sighed, “She _really_ wants Mario.”

“What, is she a fangirl?”

“No. She’s a _journalist_.”

“Well yeah, I know. So?”

“So I thought I was meeting her to make a deal on fixing the game against Spain!”

“You were! Wait,” Jerome turned fully towards Marco and squared up to him, “You did _make_ the deal, right? I swear, if you’ve blown that money, I’ll fucking rip your bastard balls off.”

“Calm your shit, she wasn’t interested in that deal once she realised you had sent me. But I agreed a different one with her that will make us more money.” Marco smirked confidently as Jerome looked at him, sceptically.

“How much more?”

“Double.”

“ _Double_? What the hell does she want?”

“She wants a ‘Mario Götze scandal’. Apparently, when Ann did her interview, sales of BILD increased ten-fold and she is desperate for the same for her newspaper. Once I told her what I had in mind, she doubled the offer.”

“What the hell did you have in mind that was worth that much?”

“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I received a ridiculous payment from Vienna and _this_ ,” Marco pulled a cheque out of his pocket and handed it to Jerome, “is your half.”

“Shit,” Jerome breathed, “You might be a bastard, Reus but this is the easiest quarter of a million I’ve ever made.”

“There could be more,” Marco smirked and Jerome peered at him, an eyebrow cocked.

“More?”

“If I pass her more stories about Mario, she reckons we can expect more paydays.” Jerome looked over at Marco thoughtfully as he spoke.

“I have a story. Not about Mario but…I suspect she’d be willing to pay a _hell_ of a lot for it.”

“Who’s it about?”

“Philipp.” Marco caught Jerome’s slight smirk as he named Philipp.

“And Thiago?” Marco asked and Jerome barked out a laugh as he caught his eye.

“So you know too, huh? How did you find out?”

“Mario told me.”

“ _Mario_ knows now? How did he find out?” Jerome spluttered, momentarily breaking his cool stance but Marco just shrugged.

“I don’t know. He just mentioned it earlier when he was falling asleep.” Jerome laughed while Marco spoke.

“You gave it to him good, did you?”

“Piss off, we didn’t fuck,” They stood together for a moment, “So what exactly is the deal with those two?”

“Philipp and Thiago have always been pretty close but…I don’t know. They started getting real close last year when he was having problems with his wife, Thiago was having family problems…I guess they just kind of fell in each other’s arms. Neither of them have been with men before,” Jerome trailed off and shrugged.

“How did you find out? Is it some kind of open secret?”

“You’re joking, aren’t you? No, I found Thiago after they’d had a fight or something and he told me.”

“A _fight_? So they aren’t just fucking?”

“Depends on whose point of view you’re looking at it from. Philipp sees it as just fucking, a different kind of intimacy when he’s not with his wife. Thiago…well, he’s a whole other ball game. I think he thinks that he’s in love with Philipp or something. I don’t really know, to be honest. He tries to confide in me but I can’t say I’m really that interested. If he wants to fuck guys, whatever but don’t try to make out that you love the guy. Well, you know that better than anyone.” Jerome scoffed, dropped his cigarette and began heading back inside, “Tell Sophia that one. And get the best price,” He said, turning back slightly.

“Are you sure? That’s going to really fuck with the team.”

“What, and you telling her the story about Mario killing Carolin wasn’t?” Marco spun around and saw Thiago behind him.

“How did you-”

“Never underestimate Philipp’s connections, Reus. Don’t bother telling Sophia about me and him, she won’t print it.”

“So what?” Jerome interjected, stepping back outside, “If she won’t print it, we could just go somewhere else. There are plenty of other newspapers. And I’m sure that BILD would pay a pretty penny for that particular story.”

“Oh please, spare me the theatrics. You guys both know that Sophia is your meal ticket. If you go selling your petty stories to another paper, she won’t deal with _you_ ,” Thiago said pointedly at Jerome, “ever again.” But Marco just scoffed at Thiago.

“So what if she doesn’t? There are _plenty_ of other newspapers,” But as Marco spoke, he noticed Jerome and Thiago locking eyes, “What’s going on?”

“He’s been screwing Sophia for years,” Thiago said with a smirk.

“Oh big surprise, I cheat on my wife!” Jerome rolled his eyes, “That’s old news you fucking cunt!” Thiago pulled out his phone and showed the screen to both Marco and Jerome.

“Well since you’re so open about it, how about I email the editor of BILD newspaper and send him these photos?” Thiago scrolled through the photos for their benefit, showing photos of Jerome and a woman Marco recognised as Sophia together in rather compromising situations, “Picture it, _Boateng_ ; your wife humiliated in the press, your daughters devastated-”

“You leave my daughters out of this,” Jerome growled but Thiago shrugged.

“You should have thought about that before you fucked around with other women.”

“What, you mean like you thought about Philipp’s daughter?” Jerome snarled as Thiago gritted his teeth.

“She will understand when she’s older and sees us together, still in love. She will see that it wasn’t some mindless fling!” Thiago cried out but neither Marco nor Jerome couldn’t resist letting a small, condescending laugh slip out.

“Oh please!” Marco chuckled.

“What?”

“If you honestly think that Philipp is _ever_ going to choose you over his wife and child, you’re fucking deluded. If you think Philipp loves you, you need your head testing,” Jerome asserted, earning a dark glare from Thiago.

“Take that back,” He said lowly but Jerome just shook his head and laughed, “Take it back or I will tell Mario that _you_ ,” He pointed at Marco, “sold a story to _Kronen Zeitung_ that will say that he was the one responsible for your ex-girlfriend’s death,” When neither Marco nor Jerome said anything – calling his bluff – Thiago turned to head back into the hotel, “Fine. I’ll go do it right now.”

In a panic, Marco grabbed Thiago from behind and tried to pull him back. But the shorter man was a lot stronger than he anticipated and fought him. They struggled for a few moments before Marco finally forced him back and threw him down onto the ground. It was a simple struggle; there was no punching or kicking or any real foul play.

It was just unfortunate that when Thiago fell, he happened to smash his head on the edge of a step that led into the hotel.

Marco and Jerome stared at each other in stunned, panicked silence.

“Is he dead?” Marco’s whole body flushed with cold and he could actually feel his whole internal temperature drop a few degrees. He could feel the ice coursing through his veins as Jerome seemed to bend down in slow motion.

“He’s very much alive and breathing. I think he’s just knocked out. He’ll be fine, chill.”

“ _Chill_?” Marco cried out, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I’ll deal with it.”


	17. Too Bad

“Do you ever think that…if we weren’t living this life, if we weren’t footballers, if we weren’t famous…we would never have even crossed paths, let alone be together? I would have stayed with my family in Bavaria and you would have done the same in Dortmund. You probably would never have discovered that you could ever be interested in men and I would never have had the death of another human being on my conscience. I just can’t work out if you are the best or the worst thing to have ever happened to me. You bring alive in me the most intense feelings; you make me feel butterflies and my heart soar out of my chest. You make me lose my grip on reality. I’ve never been in love with someone like this and I just can’t work out why I’ve allowed myself to fall so hard for someone who quite clearly doesn’t give a fuck about me or how I feel!” Marco winced as Mario screamed at him. They had been arguing for hours, ever since Mario had discovered the second cheque from Sophia and realised exactly which story had warranted it, “How many times do I have to tell you how much Carolin’s death haunts me? I _cannot sleep_!”

“You think you’re the only one who’s suffering? It’s not exactly great knowing that your boyfriend killed your girlfriend!”

“I DIDN’T DO IT ON PURPOSE!” Mario screamed at the top of his voice, his face red and veins popping out on his forehead. They both went silent and looked at each other for a moment, both of them breathing heavily.

“I want to be with you, I do,” Marco said, as calmly as he could, “and you have no idea – _no_ idea – what I’ve done to try to ensure that we are together.” Mario turned his back on Marco and wandered into the kitchen, taking a bottle of water from the fridge before sitting at the table. Marco followed but stood awkwardly at the edge of the table, watching as Mario took a long drink in contemplation.

“I want to know something,” Mario said, unnervingly calm.

“What?”

“Why did you bury the story?” Marco groaned at Mario’s question.

“For crying out loud, Mario, I’ve told you a thousand times before! I love you and I wanted to protect you!” Marco cried, exasperated but Mario just shook his head, his glassy eyes looking straight past Marco.

“No. No, that doesn’t make sense to me. Why bury it and then sell the story to _Kronen Zeitung_ a year later?” But Marco just shook his head and on seeing the dismissive gesture, Mario groaned, “How do you expect me to forgive you if you won’t be honest with me?”

“Believe me, Mario. You don’t want to know,” Marco muttered.

“Tell me now or I’m going to walk out now and there is no hope for us whatsoever. I’m serious Marco.” At that, something in Marco snapped. He gritted his teeth and kicked the edge of Mario’s chair.

“Stand up. Now.” Marco looked Mario straight in the eye as he made his demand and Mario obliged, standing up to face him. They stared at each other for a minute with Marco silently daring Mario to pull out and Mario very much calling his bluff.

“Tell me. Right now, I mean it,” Mario demanded, keeping his voice as steady as he could manage. Marco took a step forward so that they were so close, their noses were almost touching.

“I buried the story,” Marco hissed, “because Carolin was pregnant when you killed her.” The colour drained from Mario’s face as his jaw literally dropped. With shaky legs, Mario took a step back, shaking his head.

“No. No, you’re lying,” Mario murmured in utter disbelief, his voice scratchy and although Marco tried to keep his face cold and steely, he couldn’t manage it. Tears glazed his eyes.

“Oh believe me, I wish I was. When you were both rushed to hospital, before she died, the doctor told me that she was six weeks pregnant. I knew how badly the press would slaughter you if they knew so I got in touch with my lawyer and we made a deal with the police under privacy laws. I wanted to protect you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Mario whispered through gritted teeth, “How do you expect me to believe anything _you_ say after everything you’ve done? You buried the story so you could make a nice profit a few months later!” Mario growled, his voice dark but Marco shook his head violently.

“No! Never! You really think that I would lie about Carolin carrying my child?”

“I do, actually. Now get out of my hotel room before I do something I’ll seriously regret!” Knowing he was defeated, Marco turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. As it happened, Mario knew that Marco was telling the truth about Carolin – he might be sick, but he wasn’t that sick.

Mario collapsed down on the sofa, his head spinning as he thought about Marco’s revelation. Carolin carrying Marco’s child? If he hadn’t done what he did…that child would be here now, just a few months old. Marco probably would have gone back to her and they would have been a family. They might have even got married and bought a family home out in the Dortmund suburbs.

One thing Marco and Mario seldom spoke about – when they were actually speaking to each other - was the future, their future. That didn’t mean that Mario didn’t think about it, however. He didn’t really think about it when the two of them were on good terms; he preferred to live in the moment and savour every second that he could. But when they weren’t speaking, when Marco had pushed Mario too far and made him despise every inch of him…that was when Mario found that he couldn’t resist letting the thoughts flow. Gay couples couldn’t get married in Germany so he fantasised about them eloping to Hawaii and having an intimate ceremony on a hidden, secluded beach. Mario thought about Marco transferring to Bayern Munich and them buying a beautiful estate with acres of land, a pool and an underground home cinema.

Mario had even dared to dream about them one day adopting a child.

With a frown, Mario shook his head, as if trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. How could they be together now that he knew that he had not only killed Carolin but that he had taken away Marco’s _child_? How could they be together now that he knew that Marco hated him so much that he was willing to profit from his pain and misery? Mario felt like he had finally properly woken up and was now seeing what a vile monster Marco really was. He had betrayed him in the worst way possible. Mario knew that what he did to Carolin was beyond terrible but it was an _accident_. What Marco had done ruined his life and it was all for a measly paycheque.

Mario stayed sitting on that sofa until the early hours of the morning. Sleep never even crossed his mind. He just thought of everything he and Marco had been through together; from their first drunken kiss outside Marco’s house in a taxi, to the first time he wrapped his lips around Marco’s cock. From the first time they made love to when he found out Marco was still sleeping with Carolin. From Marco taking care of him in hospital to the numerous times he ripped out his heart and threw it under a truck. As every scene from their rollercoaster relationship played out in his mind, Mario tried to pinpoint exactly when Marco began hating him enough to put him through such mental torment. Marco hadn’t needed to tell him that Carolin had been pregnant; the very thought that he was the reason why a tiny baby hadn’t been born made him feel like a knife had been driven right into his gut.

By the time the clock got to four AM, Mario believed he had formulated the ultimate plan for revenge. Marco had gone to ridiculous lengths just to make sure that Mario felt the absolute worst about himself so now, Mario was going to return the favour. With a spinning head, Mario acted on auto-pilot and grabbed his phone. It only took him a few moments to find a hardware store that was still open on the other side of town. So he left the hotel, called for a taxi and headed over there.

Mario didn’t spend too long at the hardware store. He just grabbed what he needed and left as quickly as possible – he didn’t want to give himself enough time to think. Not that he could think properly in his sleep deprived, monstrously frustrated and angry state. He jumped back into the taxi and went back to the hotel. When he got out of the taxi, he paid the driver and headed into the car park.

Mario didn’t think about what he did next. In fact, he could barely remember doing it. All he knew was that he did it.

Afterwards, he ran upstairs and locked himself in his hotel room before diving into bed, wrapping the thick duvet around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and wished for sleep to come so he didn’t have to think about what he just did and go and rectify it.

Sleep eventually came for Mario but it wasn’t long before he was woken up again by the furious hammering on his hotel room door. With a groggy body and mind, he reluctantly rolled out of bed and dragged his feet over to the door. He swung it open and looked through blurry eyes to see Jerome standing at the door.

“I saw Marco last night. He told you that he sold the story about you and Carolin, then?”

“Yeah. So?” Mario was so exhausted, both physically and mentally, that he could barely stand up and he grabbed onto the door frame for support.

“You should know that…he-Are you alright?” Jerome frowned as he looked at Mario trembling, barely able to stand.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Mario insisted, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Jerome.

“Right. Whatever. As I was saying, you should know that Marco only sold that story about Carolin because the editor told him that if he didn’t, she would print the story about you two being together!” Jerome cried out before looking at Mario, trying to gauge his reaction. Which was just one of confusion.

“What are you talking about? The press already ran that story, remember?”

“Not with pictures and statements from impartial witnesses.” Mario’s face fell as he took in Jerome’s words and their implication. As bad as the story about Carolin was, it wouldn’t do him and his career nearly as much damage as the story of his relationship with Marco, _especially_ when confirmed with photographs.

“Where’s Marco now?”

“He’s packing. Said he was going to leave soon and go to the airport,” Jerome sighed, “Look, I’m not your biggest cheerleader but maybe you should go and speak to him before he leaves, yeah? He’s a dick but he’s really not as big a dick as he seems.” With that, Jerome turned on his heel and walked back down the hotel corridor, back to his own room. Mario bit his lip as he considered his next move.

He threw on a clean pair of jeans and shirt and ran a brush through his increasingly floppy hair. His facial hair was getting dark and thick and he thought briefly about having a shave but shook his head, he just needed to see Marco.

Mario ran out of his hotel room barefoot and ran down the corridor to Marco’s room, hammering on the door furiously but he didn’t get an answer.

“Marco! Marco!” He banged on the door harder but still there was no response. Mario pressed his ear to the door but couldn’t hear any movement inside. So he banged on the door more, stopping only when the door behind him opened.

“Hey, where’s the fire?” Thomas came out of his room and frowned at Mario, “If you’re looking for Marco, he set off for the airport like five minutes ago,” Mario stared at Thomas, a chill going down his spine as he felt the colour drain from his face.

“Is he…” Mario coughed, “Is he driving to the airport?”

“Well yeah, he-” But Thomas was cut off by Mario pushing past him as he tore down the corridor. He had never sprinted as fast as he did when he ran down those stairs, to the lobby and out to the car park.

His heart sank as he saw the empty car parking space where Marco’s car was just a few hours earlier.

“Hey,” Mario jumped as he turned around to see Toni coming out of the hotel.

“Can I use your car?”

“What?”

“I need your car. Now!” Toni barely had time to respond before Mario snatched his car keys out of his hand and he could only watch as Mario sprinted across the car park, jumped into his car and took off, swerving as he sped out, onto the road.

Mario completely ignored the 40 kilometres per hour as he sped down the road, heading in the direction of the airport. There were two airports in Berlin and Mario could only pray that he was heading to the right one. He needed to reach Marco before he got onto the Autobahn or there would be absolutely no chance.

He had been driving at top speed for just under ten minutes when, with a great sigh of relief, he spotted Marco’s burgundy Range Rover just ahead of him. He put his foot down even harder on the pedal but what with other cars on the road getting in between them, there was just no getting to Marco.

Mario was forced by the other drivers to slow down and his heart started hammering faster and faster in panic as Marco began driving faster.

“Slow down!” Mario screamed, terrified. He didn’t even have his phone with him so he couldn’t even call him. So he thought of a new tactic. He sped up and, with some dangerous swerves, he overtook the other cars on the road and for a moment, he drove alongside Marco. He screamed his name over and over, trying to get his attention, but Marco’s attention was apparently centred on the road and singing along to his shitty CDs.

So with a frustrated cry, Mario sped up even further and made the tragic mistake of swerving into Marco’s lane, overtaking him.

Mario had meant to force Marco to slow down. He was going to make him slow down and drive slower and slower until he ran out of gas. And when he eventually ran out of gas, he was going to apologise to him for cutting his breaks.

He meant to _save_ him.

Instead, Marco inadvertently ploughed his car into the back of him, making Mario smack his head violently against the steering wheel.

Mario lost consciousness instantly.

*

“I don’t know what happened! I tried to break but I still crashed into him!” Marco burst into a fresh batch of tears as Toni drew him into a hug. As the driver of the vehicle that had crashed into Mario, Marco was sitting on the curb of the road in handcuffs to prevent him from leaving the scene while the police investigated the scene and the paramedics gave Mario a quick examination.

The past half an hour had passed in an excruciating blur for Marco. He had no idea what had happened. One moment he cruising down the road on his way to the airport, singing Justin Bieber and the next…the next he’d crashed into Mario.

His head snapped up as he watched one of the paramedics approach the police, saying something to them in hushed tones.

His stomach twisted in knots as one of the policemen approached him.

“Stand up.” He demanded and, shakily, Marco got to his feet, desperate to know how Mario was doing.

“Marco Reus, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of-”

“He’s dead?” Marco whispered, frozen in complete disbelief.

“Marco Reus, I am arresting-”

“He’s _dead?_ ”

“MARCO REUS, I AM ARRESTING YOU ON-”

“NO! MARIO IS NOT DEAD!” Marco screamed at the top of his lungs, the tears now pouring down his face, “HE IS NOT DEAD!” Marco fought against the two police officers trying to hold him back, “Let me see him! I need to see him! I’ll _show_ you that he is _alive_!” Marco wrestled out of the grip of the police officers and ran over to the car.

Mario was slumped in the driver’s seat. Blood coated his face and matted his hair. His eyes were rolled back into his head. His sweet lips were blue. The tanned blush to his skin had disappeared now and his warm skin was cold to Marco’s fingers.

Mario Götze was, quite clearly, dead.

Marco screamed a scream filled with anguish, pain, guilt, terror and gut wrenching devastation.

He couldn’t even gather the energy to protest as one of the police officers grabbed him, hauled him up and escorted him to the police car.

“Marco Reus, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Mario Götze, contrary to section 211 of the German Criminal Code. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you may rely on in court.”

Marco barely heard the officer speak. All he registered was that they were arresting him for murder. The murder of a man who was the absolute love of his life.

It was too bad he didn’t realise it sooner.


End file.
